


over the mountains and under the stars

by AndreaLyn



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2020-01-05 15:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 79,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18368804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: My collection of Tumblr prompt fills:Latest Prompt -Sometimes, Liz hears Rosa's voice near the anniversary but when she returns to Roswell, it becomes louder.





	1. time travel shenanigans

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #1 - Either a dejected Michael or dejected Alex time-traveling to where they are happily married, in a house with a beagle. Time travel abounds, Alex figures out what to fight for and it's not the past

Early after his discovery of Project Shepard, Alex had come to a conclusion - for every worthwhile piece in his father’s evidence, there’s four pieces of worthless trash.   
  
At the start, he’d bundled everything up in boxes and brought it to Kyle for his opinion because he still thought every last piece was crucial and important, but then he’d found another two storage lockers of it and decided that he was going to do this on his own or ask Kyle to take some leave to go over it. After Texas, with things going to shit, Alex had shifted his attention to working through Project Shepard to try and take his mind off Michael (and Maria, and leaving, and the ship, and his doubts; Michael  _and_  will be the death of him). He purposely doesn't ask Kyle to help him, because sifting through old alien artifacts is probably a kind of self-flagellation that Kyle will call him on.  
  
Nothing like going over alien shit to try and clear your mind about your alien boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend? He decides that's only more reason to dive further into the research.   
  
In retrospect? Not his best idea to go it alone when there are alien artifacts in the mix.  
  
When alcohol had stopped doing the trick to numb the memories of imagining Michael and Maria having sex, Alex had trudged back to the storage locker to go over the pieces, digging into one of the boxes to find a piece that looks like it belongs with the ship, but  _different_. He’s exhausted, thinking about Michael leaving, thinking about him and Maria (did he stay the night with her? Did he breathe out softly the way he does with Alex, did she find out the truth about his hand), and his spirits are the lowest they’ve ever been.  
  
It means that when he gets both hands on the glimmering piece of tech from one of the boxes, Alex’s mind is pent up and thinking,  _I just need to know what happens next._ His thoughts are obsessively revolving around Michael when he feels a sharp burst of disorienting sickness.   
  
His head is fuzzy, he feels like he could throw up, and for a long moment, Alex grips the piece tighter, for fear he’s going to break it.   
  
Closing his eyes, he tries to bear it and wait it out. When it passes, he’s on his feet with the piece, thinking that it’s time to stop being sorry for himself and he can use this as an excuse to go see Michael. Only, when he drives to the junkyard, his trailer isn’t there. What is there is something that Alex has never noticed before. Just in the distance, there's a house just off the land and Alex heads there, a touch frantic that maybe Michael decided to pick up and leave town. He shifts the piece to hide it inside his coat, approaching the house warily, and not even paying attention to his surroundings until a dog starts howling and barking wildly.   
  
“Shit,” Alex says, because the last thing he needs is for a dog to get him arrested for trespassing.  
  
It’s a beagle, like the kind Mimi said he’d get, but if this howling is any kind of hint, then maybe Alex isn’t so keen on one. He’s hobbling over as fast as he can without running, shifting the piece in his hands so he can lean over and try and calm it.  
  
“Hey,” he whispers, trying to keep a low profile. “Hey, it’s okay. I just want to ask your owners a few questions, okay?”  
  
The barking isn’t stopping, so Alex moves to desperate measures, soothing and trying to get close enough to pet the animal. Behind them, the lights on the house’s porch flicker on and Alex notices, now, that the sun has started to set. How long had he been going over those pieces of evidence?  
  
Clearly, he needs a break. Between the weird fit with the piece and this house suddenly appearing that he’s never seen before, Alex thinks he’s losing his mind.  
  
The feeling doesn’t get better when he hears a voice from the porch – a very, very familiar voice.   
  
“What the hell kind of noise are you making, Phoebe? You know who it is.”  
  
Alex freezes from where his hand is on the beagle’s ears, fumbling to check her tags. He probably should have started there, seeing the name  **GUERIN** embossed into them. Frozen, his eyes wide, he tries to hush the barking down, wondering what you do when you can’t just cover a dog’s mouth to stop it.   
  
He still tries, though, and that’s how Michael Guerin finds him. Maybe it’s more important to mention that Alex finds Michael with a dishcloth thrown over his shoulder, a leash in hand, and wearing a wedding ring on his finger, standing outside the bungalow of a beautiful house. Still, that’s how he finds him.   
  
Biting back his bitterness, he hates that this is probably some joke.   
  
“What, so Maria told you about the beagle and you guys decided to get hitched and take that too?”  
  
At least, that’s what he wants to say.   
  
Instead, Alex tightens his grip on the piece of alien tech and  _stares,_ because Michael looks so good. His shoulders actually look a bit broader, but maybe that’s just because of how tall he’s standing, and the way he strides forward to pick up the dog calls attention to the sweatpants and the fact that Alex can tell he’s not wearing underwear from his steady gait.  
  
There’s an amused look on Michael’s face, which only pisses Alex off more.  
  
“What?” he snaps.  
  
This is the last thing he needs. He’s exhausted, he’s tired, he feels a little ill and can’t place his finger on why, and now Michael is playing some practical joke acting like he’s hitched with the dog that Mimi DeLuca predicted.  
  
“Is this the first time you found it? You never told me that story.”  
  
Great, apparently Michael’s also gone insane.   
  
“What are you, I don’t…”  
  
“Alex,” Michael says softly. “Come sit down inside.”  
  
He does, even though he’s still feeling really out of it. The beagle trots along beside him like he belongs there and when Alex gets inside, he passes a foyer filled with pictures of him and Michael, the dog, and it takes about fifteen seconds for him to realize that half the possessions here are his.   
  
Michael’s married.  
  
To him?  
  
Did Kyle sneak into the storage locker and knock him over the head? Is this some kind of wild fever dream the alien artifact created for him? Whatever it is, Alex takes the first opportunity to sink down into a chair, gaping at Michael as he heads to the kitchen and turns off the stovetop’s heat, bringing Phoebe back to settle her onto the ground.   
  
“Lucky for you, Alex of 2025 is currently on assignment, but he did say that he couldn’t travel if the one from the future was around,” Michael absently mutters as he digs through a stack of papers. “It’s sweet of you, visiting, like you know how lonely I’ve been. We don’t need to talk about the boyfriend pillow in the bed, but … ah, here it is,” he says triumphantly, digging out a piece of paper. “Here. You wrote this for yourself. He always said I’d know when to give it to you.” Wandering closer, he holds out a letter, but he doesn’t hand it over so easily.   
  
For a long while, Michael stares at him, to the point it starts to become unnerving.  
  
“What?” Alex asks.   
  
“You look…” Michael hesitates. “You look tired.”  
  
He probably does. He hasn’t slept much, he’s been drinking, and he keeps thinking about how he’s lost Michael to Maria because of his own cowardice and now he might lose him to another planet for the same reason, and even  _knowing_  that, he can’t make himself do anything different.  
  
“Here,” he says. “This is for you. I’ll finish dinner, so come find me when you’re ready.”  
  
Alex takes the letter and carefully opens it. It’s not new, judging by the color of the envelope, so he has to wonder at what point he’ll write this, if he even gets the chance. He’s not sure what to expect, but the opening sentence isn’t … it.  
  
_Congratulations! You’ve won a strange human ability to manipulate the time-space engine of the ship and locked it to your genetic code!_  
  
It’s Michael’s writing. Alex huffs out a laugh and can only imagine the way his other self must have been irritated when he’d gained control of the pen again, but the words past that are in his own handwriting.  
  
_Alex, it’s me. Or you, however you want to think about this. If you’re reading this, you found a piece of Michael’s ship, before it rejoins with the rest. That happened a couple of years ago, but up until then, when you hold it and think about where you want to be, you can sort of skip along like a record. I remember when it brought me to this, and it’ll help you out a few more times._  
  
_You’re going to need it again soon and it won’t be for a domestic drop-in._  
  
_It can’t take you back in time. You can’t change anything that’s already happened. The past is past, the scars are set._  
  
_Take care of Michael for me. The glass doesn’t work if I’m within about twenty-five miles. When you want to go back, just think of home. I know things might seem rough right now, but thinking about Michael always did the trick._  
  
He reads that last line a few times because it’s a punch to the gut. By the time he’s read it for a fifth time, Michael is coming out of the kitchen bearing bowls of chicken stew, Phoebe dancing around his heels. “Come on. I made enough for two and I was planning to eat it in a sad grief-state of missing my husband, but I guess we can share and you can tell me why you look like you want to cry.”  
  
If he thinks about home right now, he’ll think of how things with him and Michael are so fragmented and tangled. Maybe with a good meal in his belly and the promise of this in his future, though, maybe then he can head back with the hope of something to come.  
  
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I think it’s getting better, now.”  
  
“I knew you liked me,” Michael drawls with delight, and sits Alex down to a family dinner in a comfortable home, introducing him to what a family and a home can look like inside Roswell in the form of both a place and a person.   
  
It's a surreal experience for Alex to have, but he eats dinner across the table with a Michael who looks slightly older if you caught the grey in his beard, but there's something missing that Alex thinks is his sadness. Dinner is a combination of amazing (he's never had this kind of food or warmth of company) and frustrating, because no matter how much Alex pleads, Michael refuses to give up anything.  
  
"Alex was clear," Michael says. "Whatever you learn, you learn, but I'm not allowed to give up anything. I follow my husband's instructions. You bark them real convincingly at me and then use all kinds of nice positive reinforcement to back them up."  
  
"Pretty sure that's knowledge about the future."  
  
Michael raises a brow. "Is it? Your training tendencies already exist." He reaches over to pick up his plate so he can take them to the sink and soak them, though he doesn't wash them. Instead, he's staring at Alex and trying to suss him out, by the looks of it. "What's going on that you look like you wanted to cry when you saw me? I haven't seen that look on your face in years, especially once we got past the part where conversations with one another drove us to the brink of tears."  
  
"You uh, you and Maria, in Texas," Alex says, hating that the words feel so awful to get out. He loves the both of them in different ways, but standing at this crossroads, even knowing this path leads to a secure future, it's still in his head. "That's your past. Tell me about it."  
  
Michael doesn't look so keen on it, like he knows this is only going to hurt Alex or help him to keep pouring salt in the wound.   
  
"What do you want to know?" Michael drags one of the kitchen chairs over to sit beside Alex, resting his palms on Alex's knees. "I didn't wake up beside her in bed. It was nice to burn off that steam after I thought you dumped me and I lost all my hope and even with those super gay eyes of yours, you have to admit she's stunning. If you'd called me up that night, though, and asked me to come back to Roswell and be with you? I would have. That's all you need to know, I think. The ball's in your court, Alex," he says, leaning over to tap the alien tech. "You're gonna go home and write a letter about this, explain it to me, but guess what. You don't need alien technology to change your future. You just...live what you want to live. If you want this," he says, holding up his hand with the ring on it, "you just have to ask for what you want."  
  
"You're not afraid I'm gonna fuck all this up? Undo all this happiness?" Alex asks warily, sliding the piece back into his hand.   
  
Michael's smile is so blissful that Alex feels jealous, right up until he remembers that if he stops spending his time looking at alien artifacts and goes back to staring at aliens, then he could feel it too. "I've been with you long enough to have faith that we're gonna end up together, always. We're like opposite magnets," he says. "The minute we're near enough, we'll attract, and then good luck prying us apart," he says with a smirk that's laced with filth and innuendo. "So," he says. "Do you want to keep thinking about me and Maria, keep going over those pieces, or do you want to go home and figure out how to get your shit together. Kind of need it, not just romantically," he says. "There's some big stuff coming and you need to be ready. This isn't a hint or anything, since you already know, but we're stronger together."  
  
They protect each other, is what he doesn't have to say. Moving his other hand to the alien tech, he swallows back his nerves and readies himself to think about his destination to try and send himself back, earning a little more control. "Do me a favor," he says, before he fixates on the piece.  
  
"Always."  
  
"When I get back from that assignment, if I haven't fucked things up, show me how much you love me."  
  
"Only if you do the same back where you come from."  
  
It's the easiest deal that Alex ever makes, and as he thinks about  _home, Michael Guerin, Roswell, making things right_ , that same disorienting feeling washes over him, but now he knows what he's fighting for, and it means leaving Project Shepard and the past behind and working to get that future.


	2. bed sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tropes. Man, give me tropes. Drunken Vegas marriage, marriage of convenience, bed sharing, pretend relationship, cloths sharing, having to live together for whatever reason, showed in, etc.
> 
> *
> 
> On the way back from an investigation trip, they stay at a motel and while Kyle would love to prove his effectiveness as a big spoon, Alex has other ideas.

If you’d asked him earlier that day, Michael wouldn’t say that he’d expect a bedding situation to be his biggest worry, and yet, here they are.  
  
“I’ll sleep in the truck,” Michael says dismissively, when he sees what they’re dealing with. It won’t be the first time after all, and both Kyle and Alex know it. Alex at least looks away with mild shame for the reminder of those nights, but Kyle seems to be having none of it.   
  
After their second trip out to another of Jim Valenti’s secret drop sites, they’d decided to stop at a motel when it got to be two in the morning and none of them were fit to drive the rest of the way back. It’s a shit little town that they’ve found, which means that the motel had a single room with two queen beds in it for them and not much else.  
  
“I can share with Alex, you don’t have to do that,” Kyle protests. This new hero complex where he’s trying to make up for lost time annoys the shit out of Michael and the thought of him in a bed with Alex isn’t helping, either.   
  
This is rejected by the furious glare on Michael’s face.   
  
“I didn’t think you’d want to cuddle up with me, Guerin,” Kyle keeps going, though he does look vaguely amused at the idea. “Though I am a pretty good big spoon.”  
  
Michael bites back on an annoyed,  _yeah, and I’m a knife._  
  
“Guys,” Alex cuts in calmly. “Shut up. Kyle, take the bed. Guerin…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but gestures to the other bed. Michael wants to pick a fight about why Alex is being like this, when the only other times they’ve shared a bed have been after hookups, but unless Alex and Kyle’s teenaged sleepovers were really progressive, they are the only two who have shared a bed.  
  
It’s still bound to be crazy awkward.  
  
When Kyle is in the bathroom, Michael strips down to his boxers and keeps the t-shirt on, watching as Alex sits on the bed and lies down without taking off his pants or the prosthetic.  
  
“No,” Michael snaps, because Alex can make decisions for him about who’s sleeping where, but there’s no way he’s about to let this fly. “I don’t care if Valenti is here, you’re not sleeping with that thing on and I know he’ll agree with me. Right?” he pitches his voice louder so it’ll carry.  
  
“Take it off, Manes!” Kyle shouts from the bathroom.   
  
Michael decides he likes Kyle just a little more, now. Alex rolls his eyes, but works the prosthetic off, followed by the sock. It’s nothing that Michael hasn’t seen before, but he and Alex haven’t done this close-in-bed-proximity thing since they started being “just friends”. While the shower runs, he shifts under the scratchy blankets, wondering how many bed bugs are living in the covers, but he knows that he’s filling his mind with inane thoughts to keep from focusing on a couple things.  
  
Alex, right there.  
  
Alex, and the warmth of his body.  
  
Alex, and how badly Michael wants to get his hands on him.  
  
“Thought you’d have sooner volunteered to sleep with Kyle and told me to shut up than offer this,” Michael says as he punches the flat pillow a few times to try and give it life, lying down facing Alex.   
  
Alex says nothing, but his shrug and the silent way his eyes slide over Michael’s body is practically a novel for someone who knows him as well as Michael does. He’s right that they never  _talked_ , but as far as Michael’s concerned, they never had to. He can read Alex’s expressions and actions like they were words and so what if he doesn’t know Alex’s favorite diner food, he knows who Alex is.  
  
“I’m more comfortable with you,” he says, voice subdued, like he doesn’t want Kyle to overhear. “I didn’t hear you arguing.”  
  
“I’d never turn down a chance to wake up in bed with you. When I was a kid, we’d get put in front of a TV a lot,” he shares, “easier to let television babysit us than actually raise us. Watching couples wake up with one another, that look they got on their face, it always looked amazing, but I didn’t realize how great until that morning in the trailer when you stayed.”  
  
“Michael…”  
  
“No, let me finish,” Michael cuts him off, pressing his palm against Alex’s heart and letting his fingertips softly curl in, just enough to touch the fabric of his shirt. “It was like getting a sneak peek at a future I really wanted. Maybe not in a shitty trailer or a terrible motel like this, but I could have seen it somewhere nicer.”  
  
There’s a guilty and strained look on Alex’s face, which means Michael knows better than to push.  
  
This is convenience, it’s not like Alex wants to push beyond being friends and Michael’s fine with that. At least they’re not ignoring each other. He doesn’t take his hand off Alex, but he does move it to absently rest on his hip, The door to the bathroom opens and Kyle wanders out, hair wet and in the same clothes from the day, but he’s silent as he heads to the bed. Michael decides that whatever sharing they’ve been doing is over and he might as well get some sleep before they wake in a few hours and finish the drive home.  
  
With Kyle in the other bed, Alex doesn’t seem so keen to talk, but Michael swears that he hears Alex whisper to him, “I didn’t stay because it was late,” to him, once Michael’s breathing had evened out, once it seems like he’s sleeping. “I stayed because I’ve been wanting to wake up with you since I was seventeen.”  
  
He doesn’t open his eyes, but Michael’s lips curve up just a little more, a burst of warmth suffusing him like the sun came out from behind the clouds and has warmed his life.  
  
That night, he sleeps better than he has in months, with Alex so near to him.

Michael wakes up to Kyle looming over the bed with a smug look on his face.   
  
“See,” he says, coffee in hand. “Me being the big spoon would’ve worked out after all,” he finishes, with a gesture to how Alex has burrowed up against him from behind, holding Michael protectively safe.  
  
Flipping him the bird, Michael closes his eyes and takes advantage of the closeness with Alex, because he doesn’t trust that it won’t instantly evaporate the second he wakes up. Until then, Michael plans to be the best little piece of cutlery he can be. 


	3. fake investigation marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowly getting to know the love of your life better as friends is perhaps the most awkward time to have to pull off fake marriage for the investigation, but needs must.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly, as the finale has now aired, most of these will start to veer AU, but fear not, I have a bunch of AUs and fix-its and future things in the pipeline!

“I don’t understand why you can’t go,” Michael feels like he’s  _losing his mind_ , because Alien Club is a) way too populated right now and b) telling him that he and Alex need to go undercover at some alien collector’s house the next town over. He gestures wildly to Noah and Isobel. “You two are  _actually married_!” He’s shouting now, but he knows it’s a front for his panic.  
  
Better to be angry than to let anyone see how much he’s freaking out about the fact that they want him and Alex Manes to pretend to be a happy married couple interested in some items for their home.  
  
“Because he knows me,” Isobel counters. “Not to mention, of the three of us, you’re the one with the power to manipulate security cameras and pick locks with his brain,” she snaps. “So, your choice of spouse. Do you want Valenti, who can defibrillate a security guard if things go wrong…”  
  
“Hey,” Kyle cuts in. “I’d make a very convincing loving husband.”  
  
“Or you can pretend to be married to Max?”  
  
“That’s not an option,” Max informs the group, raising a hand like he needs to make that clear.  
  
“What about Liz? Cameron?” Michael is starting to flail wildly with options, because he knows how this is going to end. 

“Guerin, they want me to hack into the system while I’m there to plant a keylogger,” Alex sounds way too calm considering what they’re being asked to do.

It’s only been a few weeks since Alex turned up at the junkyard and told Michael that he wanted to start over and be friends. Michael’s been trying so hard to give him what he wants and needs, backing off every time things get too close or tense, trying to open up and genuinely be Alex’s friend.  
  
He’s just not sure he can actually be Alex’s friend and pretend to be married to him at the same time.  
  
“Then why married?”  
  
“You wouldn’t bring a casual boyfriend to a collector’s house to buy something. He’s supposed to have actual alien artifacts, Michael, and we need to know if there’s something worthwhile there.” Isobel’s gaze is steady and she has the look in her eye of a woman that knows she’s winning the fight. “Just go in, put on a good show, and maybe we’ll learn more about ourselves. You want that, don’t you?”  
  
It’s not a problem of want.

Michael wants everything that’s about to happen. 

He wants to learn more about his past. He wants to be with Alex in a way they’ve never had a chance to be, but pretending to be married feels like skirting a huge line that feels dangerous to step over. “Fine,” he says, trying not to look at Alex (which is good, because then he won’t have to see the puppy-dog mooning eyes Alex is sending him). “I’ll pick you up at six,” he tells Alex. “This better be a good lead, Isobel.”  
  
He storms out of Isobel’s house without looking back at anyone and heads straight to the trailer.   
  
Once there, he opens one of his junk drawers and pulls out a ring box that he’s had since he was twenty-one. It had been a wildly stupid summer with Alex back in town. That summer, Michael had very nearly run away to UNM, begging Alex to come with him instead of going on his second tour.  
  
He’d bought a ring. Michael Guerin, twenty-one, stupid and in love, decided that the next natural step would be to buy a ring. Only, then Alex hadn’t showed up for their date where Michael planned to ask him to run away with him. Years later, he’d found out that he couldn’t, because Jesse Manes had pulled some strings when he’d found out about Alex’s plans, making sure that he’d be required on base.   
  
Michael had put the ring away at twenty one and never brought it out again. At least, not until tonight, because he’s supposed to be playing married.  
  
He taps the box against his chest a few times, his mangled fingers clasping it tightly, and he stares out the window, trying to figure out what you wear when you’re trying to impersonate a married couple.   
  
He has a hard enough time impersonating a normal human being most days, how’s he supposed to do this?   
  
Michael turns off the part of his brain that does feelings and heads to the meet-up point for six, getting in Alex’s car because apparently his beat-up Chevy doesn’t carry the right  _impression_  (thanks, Isobel, for that encouraging text).  
  
“You ready?” Alex asks.   
  
“Fuck no,” Michael responds, “but if this guy has anything that belongs to us, I need to know. What do you want to say if he asks about our history?”  
  
“I made us up a background that should hold,” Alex says, as they start driving to the next town where David Trapper lives. “Let’s keep it pretty close to reality? We met in high school and started dating there, off and on. When DADT got repealed, we decided to get hitched, and now we live in Roswell.”  
  
The way he says it is clinical and official, but even that is more than Michael’s ever thought he’d get from Alex. “Okay,” he says, tapping his fingers on the dash to get out some of his nervous energy. “And uh, our names?”  
  
“I took yours. Alex Guerin is the ID he’ll find if he looks me up, which I anticipate him doing.” Alex is doing his Listen To Me, I’m In The Air Force voice, which means they’re about 0010 minutes from Michael being given an order that will get him embarrassingly hard. “I’m not going to mess this up for you.”  
  
“I never said you were,” Michael replies heatedly. “This isn’t me freaking out because I don’t think you can do it, Alex, you have to admit this is awkward. We’re playing pretend. You broke us up, twice, I slept with Maria, now you want to be friends and the first thing we do is decide to get fake married to look into alien artifacts.”  
  
Alex shakes his head in disbelief, but he’s smiling, so clearly he understands how weird this is.  
  
“It’s not, admittedly, how I expected us to start over, but is it so bad? Friends investigate things together. They go out for drinks every few days to decompress and talk about their day. We’ve been doing that. It’s been nice, even.” Alex shrugs as he takes the turn down the long driveway of the address they’ve been given. “Maybe this is a good test for us.”  
  
It’s dark, now that they’ve arrived and it doesn’t help with the ominous mood that’s been creeping up on him the last few minutes. Alex parks a fair distance away as they both peer out the windshield at what awaits.  
  
The house is a creepy looking mansion in the dark and Michael hates it. He thinks he’d hate it even if he didn’t know the guy inside was collecting artifacts like it’s some creepy kink. It’s that gaudy flaunting of wealth that makes him sick, the same as it always did when he was a kid.  
  
“Hey,” Michael murmurs, heart racing as he digs out the box from his pocket. “Gotta sell this, right?” He opens it and it’s probably sad to be as proud as he is about the fact that he doesn’t fumble the ring, but he manages to get it out and offers it out to Alex.   
  
He’d fashioned himself one from some scrap metal and he’s hoping Alex doesn’t look at the ring too long and hard to notice that the platinum band doesn’t match the stainless one Michael’s wearing.  
  
Luckily, Alex says nothing, even if he does give Michael a wary look as he slides it on, his eyes softening. It looks like there’s something on the tip of his tongue, though, but Michael can’t cope with a fake marriage and a mission in the same night as hearing real feelings, so he gets out of the car before Alex can say anything.   
  
He’s pretty sure that Isobel didn’t think about the tension between the two of them when she’d sent them on this little mission of hers, because already he feels like they’re fucking it up. He comes to a stop outside the steps to the porch when he sees a figure standing there.  
  
Someone’s been waiting for them.  
  
Michael tries to convince himself this isn’t like an awful horror movie, and turns to find Alex using his crutch as he makes his way to Michael’s side.   
  
“Mr. and Captain Guerin,” David Trapper greets them from the porch of his lavish estate, and Michael threads his fingers into Alex’s hand not just to sell the bit, but because he could use the support. “Please, come in. Isobel mentioned that you had come into some money recently and were interested in seeing my collection.”  
  
“We’re aficionados,” Alex smoothly agrees, giving Michael a nudge to get him moving. “We’d heard that you were intending to sell some of your items and were interested in seeing what you have to offer.”  
  
“I do love to show it off. Please! Come in!” Trapper encourages. “I have the best collection of items I’ve purchased this side of Roswell, but I’m always willing to part with one of them for the right amount of money.”  
  
Michael presses his lips together and tries very hard not to think about sending one of the suits of armor telekinetically flying into Trapper’s face.   
  
_Rich asshole bastard._  
  
“Here we are,” he says, ascending a flight of stairs and leading them down a long hallway, with wood floors and heavy oak paneled walls. Everything here is behind a case and looks to have its own security measures. “Seventy years of collecting has yielded this, my own personal monument to our little green friends.”  
  
It’s insulting, is what it is. Michael’s never been green, if you exclude the time he gave himself accidental acetone food poisoning by combing a bottle of it with some really bad sushi.   
  
As much as he’s predisposed to hate this man and his house, his collection is actually incredible. Sure, there’s a few pieces of useless meteorites, but the technology looks genuine and he’s seen copies of the memos on display on the dark web, including the original transcripts from Brazel.   
  
Michael drifts away from Alex’s side to keep going down this rabbit hole, barely paying attention to the small talk Alex is offering to keep Trapper occupied.  
  
Considering he thought this place was going to be a bust, he’s quickly learning how wrong he is. The sound of a phone ringing cuts into his focus and he turns to watch Trapper taking a call, wishing he could listen in on whatever it is he’s being told, but he doesn’t seem keen to even be near them while he talks.  
  
“I have to take this call, you two stay here, enjoy the Alien Wing,” he says, ducking out to the main foyer and leaving Alex and Michael alone.  
  
The minute he’s gone, Michael shorts out the security cameras. “Asshole,” he grumbles, but his eyes are fixed on the various display cases on show, wondering how the hell he got his hands on these items, but the real prize possession seems to be at the end of the hall, with three times as many alarms as anything else. It looks like a glowing piece of the ship, but the placard makes him sick when he realizes that it’s alien in nature, but it’s not mechanical.  
  
It’s organic.  
  
He stares at it for a long time, his brow furrowed.  
  
“Michael?”  
  
“Organ from the 1947 alien autopsy,” he reads, staring at the iridescent shimmering before him, wondering if it belonged to a family member, a friend, a guardian, or someone else all-together. Did this person die to protect him? He’s staring at it while Alex starts to jimmy the panel loose, hooking up his device so he can hack into the security system.   
  
Glancing up as he works, Alex looks worried from what Michael can see out of the corner of his eye. “It’s real?”  
  
“I think so,” Michael says, feeling numb. He can’t explain why he thinks he’s so sure, but there’s a connection and a pull towards it.   
  
Alex finishes with the software he’s sending, a conflicted look on his face as he presses in close to Michael, a hand on his hip. “Hey,” he murmurs. “You know we can’t take it. He’ll call the cops and that’s the last thing we need.”  
  
“I know,” Michael replies, but it’s monotone, like he’s on autopilot.  
  
“Michael…”  
  
“I know,” he snaps, because he does. He has to leave this place because this is only recon and he’s not allowed to use his power to smash the glass and take back this  _stolen_  piece of his history.  
  
“We’ll come back.”  
  
He knows, but it doesn’t make it any better. “What do you want to tell him?” he asks, searching Alex’s face for advice and finding a flood of warm sympathy there. Maybe they’re pretending to be hitched, but he’s pretty sure Alex has nailed the whole ‘support your spouse’ part of this. “What should be we be making an offer on?”  
  
“The memos,” he says. “We don’t want him thinking we’re into the alien stuff just yet. I’ll tell him we’re going to go home and think about it, then we’ll make sure he’s not connected to the government in any way.” He steps into Michael’s space so he catch his eye, clearly trying to calm him down. “Okay?”  
  
It’s really not okay, but what choice does Michael have? He rips his gaze away from the glowing and pulsating object, swallowing back his stubbornness so they don’t get caught.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
It takes another ten minutes to conclude their business with Trapper and get out of there, but he doesn’t seem suspicious and that’s all Michael can ask for. The drive back is spent in silence, because Michael can’t stop thinking about the organ in the case, and he can’t stop thinking about the rings on their fingers – fake in Michael’s case, but so real when it comes to the one Alex sports.  
  
Once they’re back in Roswell, Michael knows that he’s going back once he figures out a decoy to swap with the items in Trapper’s care. He’s not leaving anything back at Trapper’s place, but he doesn’t need a fake-husband for that. Alex has brought him back to the junkyard and parked the car, turning to face Michael as he lifts his hand, starting to work off the ring. “Here,” he says. “Before I forget, you should take this back.”  
  
Watching Alex pry off the ring, Michael feels a wave of courage wash over him.  
  
He reaches out and folds Alex’s fingers over it. “Keep it,” he says.   
  
“Michael, it’s yours, it must have cost…”  
  
“Keep it,” he says. “But the next time that you and I do something that requires a married couple to go, I’m not faking it with you,” he warns, a promise he intends to keep. Seeing his family’s  _body_  on display like that has filled Michael with a need to make sure that he doesn’t take anything for granted. “I spent fifty years in a pod, in stasis, but I came out at the exact right time. I don’t know how, but maybe you and I were meant to be. I was protected by someone, and maybe this isn’t what they intended for me, but one year more or less and everything would’ve been different. I’m gonna make it right. I’ll talk, I’ll be your friend, but one day, I’m gonna earn that ring back from you because otherwise, if I waste away my life, what does that say to the people who worked so hard to keep us safe?”  
  
He can’t keep fucking up with Alex and he knows they’re not ready, but he really needs Alex to understand that.   
  
Alex slides the ring back into his pocket, nodding, looking thoughtfully at him. Michael’s expecting Alex to tell him to stop being unrealistic or to stop pushing, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he presses Michael against the door of the truck and kisses him like they had at the reunion, crashing into each other as Alex’s fingers tangle into Michael’s hair, kissing him until desperate sounds are wrenched from Alex’s throat.  
  
When he eases back, Alex presses his forehead to Michael’s. “I knew you were secretly a romantic,” he teases. “You’re saying we’re fated?”  
  
“I don’t know what else to call it,” Michael admits, because he believes in coincidence, but them finding each other feels like more than that. “Come on,” he says, swallowing the lump in his throat. “We need to tell them what we found and I need to go plan a heist.”  
  
“Not alone, you don’t,” Alex guarantees, and Michael feels his heart pounding in his chest to know he’s got a partner in crime. “For better or worse, until government agencies do us part.”  
  
“Yeah,” Michael agrees, and he’s ready to go reclaim a piece of his history, with the best fake-husband ever at his side.


	4. jealousy goes both ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex are trying out the friendship thing- and Michael was kinda enjoying how Alex keeps getting a tiny bit jealous about the Maria situation. That is, until an old buddy of Alex’s comes into town. Jealousy isn’t so fun the other way around.

“It’s not cute, you know,” Liz says. “You goading Alex?”  
  
“I have no idea what you mean,” Michael replies, winking at Maria when she brings him a new beer, rolling her eyes and dismissing him. He feels safer than ever flirting with her, because after her firm ‘it can’t happen again’ when the truth had come out about Alex, the more he flirts, the more disgusted she seems to get with him. It’s like poking a wound with a salty finger. He might as well bring on all the pain, especially since it has some very helpful benefits in his relationship with Alex.  
  
He’d discovered those benefits when Alex had come in for a drink in the middle of Michael helping Maria lug in some of the kegs of beer (in exchange for free drinks, of course). With the desert heat and the lack of AC, he’d quickly grown too sweaty and had pried off his shirt.  
  
Maria had been squeezing his bicep and smacking his chest when Alex had walked in and Michael will never forget the look on his face. That look could’ve set fire to a hundred acres of forest around them, burning with jealousy like it was.   
  
It’s not like Michael ever actually intends to do anything about those looks, seeing as he and Alex are tentatively trying things out, but he loves the heated way that Alex looks at him and more than that, he loves the sex they have after those encounters, when it seems like Alex is bursting out of his skin and only by prying Michael apart with consecutive orgasms will he feels better.   
  
”Thanks, Guer,” Maria says flirtatiously, when he helps get the pressure working on the water hose.  
  
Michael winks back at her and swivels around to salute Alex with his bottle of beer, but Alex isn’t looking at him. For once, Alex is occupied with whoever this new guy is. Breathing in sharply, he leans against the pool table with his elbow and tries very hard not to sulk.  
  
The guy is Air Force, that’s clear from the uniform, but why does Alex look so entranced by him? What’s the big deal? So he’s got gorgeous hazel eyes and broad shoulders? So his black hair falls in shiny curls that catch the light of the Wild Pony. Anyone can do that.  
  
”Okay, I know I lightly smacked your wrist, but why’s Mikey sulking…?”   
  
She looks like she’s about to pinch his cheeks, which will not go over well, so Michael rears back, glaring even harder when Alex’s new friend makes him laugh so hard that he looks like he’s about to double over with it.   
  
Liz bursts into laughter when she gets back from the bar with Maria with a new drink and sees the way Michael is glaring. “I mean, I don’t blame you.”  
  
“You know that guy?”  
  
“No, but if I were at the dollar store, he’d be on the Michael Guerin knock-off shelf,” she admits.  
  
Sure, he might look a little like that guy, with the similar curls (even if this guy’s hair is a few shades darker) and he appreciates the guy’s taste in fashion (the cowboy hat is nice, even if olive green isn’t a shade he’d choose), same height, same build…  
  
Michael should feel relieved that Alex has a type, but it only fuels his jealousy even more. He’s not exactly paying attention to the fact that this could be on purpose, because he’s not fueled by logic right now. It’s pure emotion and desire that pumps through him, not blinking as he stares at Alex across the bar.  
  
Alex stares right back, a dare in his eyes.  
  
Oh yeah, this is no coincidence.  
  
Michael lets his mouth linger around the mouth of the beer, letting his tongue capture a stray droplet, setting it down and rubbing his thumb in a very deliberate way up and down the neck of it, not taking his eyes off of Alex for a single second.  
  
Yeah, he can definitely say he doesn’t like the fits of jealousy when the shoe’s on the other foot.   
  
“He’s just an old friend,” Alex protests later, trying to sound innocent in a way that Michael knows he’s not.   
  
“An old friend, who you were touching non-stop,” he grumpily mutters, despite the fact that they’ve just finished round one and their skin shines with the sweaty sheen of sex. “Laughing too loud at his jokes, fixing his lapel, staring into his eyes…”  
  
“So now you won’t do that with Maria just to get a rise out of me?”  
  
Game, set, and match. “Remind me never to play chess with you,” Michael mutters grumpily, but losing this particular skirmish doesn’t exactly bother him  _too_  much, not when he still gets the spoils of war. “Truce.”  
  
Alex smiles with smug satisfaction. Michael tries very hard not to get turned on by that.  
  
Which, as he well knows, is a failing task, but not one he cares about.


	5. taking the bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex takes a bullet for Michael. Michael loses his shit. Alex doesn’t get why.

“Don’t let him get away!”  
  
Alex is slumped up against the wall, his blood staining the dingy corridor as he breathes in and out, focusing on exercises they taught him after they took his leg, trying not to think about how the bullet is still inside his body. Kyle’s applying pressure to the wound, a worried look on his face.  
  
“Oh, he’s not going anywhere,” Michael all-but-growls as he stalks down the hallway, both hands out. Alex feels the concussive telekinetic force that Michael levels the drifter with and Alex opens his mouth to protest, because it’s the fourth alien possessing him, it’s not like he knows what he’s doing.  
  
He tries to say something, but he tries and the pain washes over him.  
  
“What were you doing, taking a bullet for Jean Grey?” Kyle demands, yanking off his jacket to shove it against Alex’s torso. “He could’ve deflected the gun, it wouldn’t have hit him.”  
  
“He couldn’t see it was happening,” Alex manages to get out, digging his heel into the ground to try and sit up straighter, like this new position will be less painful somehow (it’s not). “Fuck, this stings,” he gasps. “If I hadn’t gotten in the way, it would’ve gone through Michael’s heart.”  
  
“You’re lucky this didn’t hit anything major.”  
  
Alex can’t think of anything to say in response to that, also because he’s watching Michael wreak holy havoc on their shooter, sending him flying against walls, splintered glass into his body. The only times he really stops is when he looks back to check on Alex and the pained look on his face is something that’s going to haunt his dreams. 

“I don’t get it,” he says. “I mean, yeah, I’m not happy to be shot, but isn’t this kind of an overreaction?”  
  
“Are you serious?” Kyle demands. “You want to know why the man whose powers go haywire when he’s angry is chasing your assailant and going nuts on him?” He scoffs and presses the jacket harder against the wound. “I’m starting to understand why you two are like this.”  
  
Before Alex can reply and get Kyle to clarify, Michael comes bolting back down the hallway.   
  
“They ran,” Michael pants as he comes back, “but they’ve got enough injuries that you can probably keep an eye on the hospitals.” He shoves Kyle aside without even asking, taking the jacket as he presses in close. “Do you want me to call Max? I can get him to heal this.”  
  
He sounds frantic and the panic in his eyes is unlike anything Alex has seen before.  
  
“Easy, it’s just a graze,” Kyle insists. “We’ll get him to the hospital and patch it up like  _normal_ people. Guerin, Manes, you want to try that out? Or…I don’t know, keep pretending you assholes don’t know how much the other cares about you.” He looks bitter, but shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”  
  
“He said he wants to be my friend,” Michael heatedly replies.  
  
It’s at the same time Alex says, “He’s going to leave the planet.”   
  
“And I thought using my high school ex for casual sex was enough to send me to therapy,” Kyle mutters. “Alex, we’re going to the hospital and I am going to get you patched up, but only if you talk to Guerin.”  
  
“Pretty sure you can’t withhold medical treatment,” Alex snipes at him, even as Michael helps lift him into his arms to help him limp along, pressing the jacket to the wound.  
  
“Oh? I can’t? Try me,” Kyle dares.   
  
It’s enough to frustrate the both of them, but with a look between them, it’s clear that Michael’s only care is making sure Alex gets the help he needs and Alex only cares that Michael stays around to help.   
  
“Deal, now, can we make sure I’m not about to die?”  
  
“Don’t worry, darlin’,” Michael murmurs. “I’d bring down Roswell if that ever happened.”  
  
It’s  _not_  a comforting thing to hear, mostly because of how good it makes Alex feel when he thinks Michael taking this whole place apart, just for him. He’s always known Michael Guerin’s a romantic at heart, this just proves it.


	6. unexpected m(pregnancy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Michael doing the "oh shit I got knocked up and I am a total disaster and an Airstream is no place to raise a baby and also the other dad isn't quite in the picture what is my damn life".

“You need to stop drinking.”  
  
Michael scowls as he reaches over to try and take back his glass of whiskey, using it to salute Liz. “Nice to see you too, Ortecho. Can you save the judgment for after I’ve had a few?”  
  
“No,” she says sharply and reaches over to grab the glass back. There’s a wild look in her eyes, but Michael writes it off as the usual panic that comes when something weird is happening. “Stop drinking and come with me.”  
  
She’s being just weird enough that Michael’s intrigued by whatever the hell is happening and tells Maria to watch his drink before he follows Liz outside to the alleyway, wondering what she could possibly have to tell him that needs this kind of privacy. He gestures around them, trying to coax her on.   
  
”Well?” Michael demands. “What is it?”  
  
“You’re pregnant.”  
  
Michael rolls his eyes, because it figures that this would be the bullshit she tries to pull with him. “I get it, I drink too much, Isobel put you up to it.”  
  
“No, Michael,” Liz reiterates, her voice sounding panicked and tight. “One of the blood samples you gave me looked weird, so I had Kyle look at it and you’re  _pregnant_ ,” she hisses. “And we have no idea what your internal system looks like because you all refuse to get tested, which means you could have the necessary organs or you might have some kind of pouch, like some weird alien seahorse.”  
  
This night is getting so much worse than Michael ever thought it could be.  
  
“Did you just call me a fucking seahorse?”  
  
“You’re pregnant, I could call you a lot worse,” she insists. “You’re about three months along, so, who were you getting busy with three months ago? It could be a woman too,” Liz points out. “If you are like a seahorse…”  
  
“Again with the fucking seahorse…”  
  
“Then it could have been an egg that did this.”  
  
“No need to comb Roswell like this is the weirdest Bachelor ever,” Michael assures, grimacing. Three months places this right after the reunion and there’s only one person he’d been sleeping with on the regular three months ago.   
  
It just so happens to be the same person who wants to be  _friends_  and just found out all his secrets and needed time. If he’d needed time when he saw an alien spaceship, then what the hell is Alex going to do when he finds out he helped father an alien baby.  
  
“Did you tell him?”  
  
“Great,” Michael mutters, when Kyle arrives on the scene, as if LIz has summoned him with some unknown weird human annoyance power. “You had to have him test my blood, didn’t you?”  
  
“You need to start coming in for checkups,” Kyle says, and Michael feels a twist in his stomach for how excited he sounds about this revolutionary thing that’s happening. “I’ll prescribe you a bunch of vitamins and Liz already told you about the drinking…?”  
  
“Yup,” she agrees proudly. “I’m gonna be Tia Liz, that baby is getting protected from the get go and if you drink enough to make it come out three-eyed…”  
  
“Hey!” he shouts, loud enough that some of the other drunks in the Pony parking lot look their way, which means that Michael’s gonna need them to find privacy real fast, before someone can start a rumor about this weird situation. “I’ll come in, but no official paperwork,” he warns both of them.   
  
“You’re keeping it?”  
  
“Who the hell knows how to do an abortion on an alien,” Michael says, with a grim scoff. “Besides…” It’s Alex’s kid, it’s his kid, and who knows if he’ll ever be able to have a kid normally? Who knows if he’ll ever want to? “Look, as far as I know, there’s three of us left. Let’s just leave it at repopulating the human-alien hybrid race.”  
  
Because obviously, he’s not about to sleep with Max or Isobel to create a pure alien lineage. That’d just be weird.  
  
It brings him to his next very important rule. Neither of them have asked about the father, but they both look shifty and god knows both of them have given him and Alex shit about their on-off thing for months, so he doesn’t think he’s leaping very far to assume they know who knocked him up.   
  
“No one tells Alex,” Michael warns both of them. It’s bad enough they all know and are so excited about it, but he doesn’t need them going to Alex when they’re broken up. “I’ll tell Max and Isobel, but…he can’t know. That’s the last thing he needs on his plate right now.”  
  
After all, when you’re starting over and trying to figure out what you are to each other, “father to my alien baby” isn’t exactly the way to go. So he’ll just be a single father and raise a baby in an airstream and oh god, this is going to go so badly, isn’t it?   
  
From the excited look on both Kyle and Liz’s faces, he’s the only one who thinks so.  
  
*  
  
He should have known that things were going to explode when Isobel and Liz decided to throw him a baby shower. Isobel looks like she’s not sure about it and Michael doesn’t blame her. He really hadn’t expected to get himself knocked up, so carrying around a human-alien hybrid in his stomach isn’t great. Though, he keeps reminding Isobel that he’s the guinea pig.  
  
“If the kid’s a freak, it’s not like I care,” he points out. “It’ll just run in the family. Then, you’ll know, one way or the other.”  
  
Liz, on the other hand, has been bubbling with excitement since she gave him the news. She sends him articles on pregnancy health, tips on exercising while pregnant, and she’s even managed to get Max to help out, offering healing hands, massaging his aching back, and a whole slew of things that Michael can’t believe his brother is doing.  
  
He really should have said no to the baby shower, though.   
  
It’s five months into the pregnancy and Michael has had to start wearing baggy sweaters to prevent people from getting wary. It’s been two months since anyone saw Alex, who’d left to make sure that Jesse Manes was going to stay out of the picture longer than this assignment, and the chaos of the baby shower has made everyone forget one very pertinent detail.  
  
Alex’s flight gets back in.  
  
Michael hasn’t kept track because their last email had been awkward and terse, with Michael not knowing how to talk to the father of his kid. Alex hadn’t done his part either. None of the others had planned to pick him up from the airport, so when all the guests are at the Airstream for the shower and Michael is in the middle of one of his panic attacks, it just seems so right.  
  
Everything had been fine, right up until someone had given him a crib. That’s when things had gone off the cliff.  
  
“Where the hell am I going to put the thing? It’s an Airstream, it’s barely enough to fit me, how the hell am I going to raise a kid in here? How am I gonna raise a kid?” Michael’s freaking out, and things are beginning to float until Isobel reaches over to squeeze his wrist, a reminder to behave. “I’m no shape to be a father, I don’t even know if I’m a fucking seahorse, or how this thing is inside me and I’m definitely gonna fuck up this fatherhood thing.”  
  
That’s when things slide from bad to worse.  
  
“What fatherhood thing?” That’s Alex, stepping out of his jeep on the driveway. He’s looking around for an explanation, but no one other than Michael is wiling to make eye contact with him.   
  
The silence around them could kill. Strangely, completely against all common sense, it’s Valenti who steps in between Michael and Alex, like he’s a bouncer and not a doctor. “Easy, Alex,” he warns. “Michael’s already freaking out, it’s bad for the …”  
  
Everyone exchanges awkward looks and Michael knows this secret isn’t going to last much longer. Facepalming, he decides it’s time to face the awful music, which is fine. He’s already having a panic attack, he might as well just tell Alex and have every terrible thing happen at the same time.   
  
“Inside,” Michael says, pointing a finger at the rest of the guests. “Leave your presents at the doorstep, and get gone.”  
  
He feels like he can’t breathe when he’s inside. Everything has hit him so fast, but now that it has, he can’t escape it. He’s a single father who’s about to raise his kid in a trailer, he’s  _that guy_ , and now he’s standing with the kid’s father and trying to figure out how to tell him about it.   
  
In the end, he decides on a Michael Guerin special, raising up his sweater to reveal the very telling baby bump, patting it twice. “I guess we should have thought a little harder about condoms,” is what he says, because every though their tests were clean, Michael really didn’t think he’d had to worry about freak alien babies. “Congrats, you knocked me up.”  
  
Alex’s eyes have widened to an almost comical degree, staring at Michael’s stomach.  
  
“You…”  
  
“Don’t worry,” Michael cuts him off, not wanting to give Alex the impression that he did this on purpose or that he somehow wants support. “I’m gonna figure out how to do this on my own. Fuck knows how, but I got Max being weirdly supportive and Liz is all crazy about being an aunt and once Iz gets over her issues, I’m sure she’ll fall in line. God knows Valenti is shocking me with…”  
  
He’d keep rambling, but he doesn’t get a chance.   
  
Alex steps into his space and kisses him so hard that he gets pressed against the kitchen cabinets of the Airstream as Alex cups his cheeks and holds him there. It’s a possessive kiss, one that’s claiming Michael more than it’s doing anything else, and when Alex backs off, his palm is rubbing circles on Michael’s stomach.   
  
The baby’s gone quiet with shock. Michael knows the feeling.  
  
“You’re not raising it alone,” is what Alex has to say, and though he looks unsure, those words are firm. “We’ll figure it out.”  
  
*  
  
For all that Alex had said they would figure it out together, Michael still finds Alex at the Pony two nights later, drinking heavily. He’s not surprised. Honestly, he’s jealous, because if it weren’t for the little parasite inside of him, he’d be drinking Maria’s worst liquors, too. As it stands, he grimaces as he orders a water.  
  
“Seriously?” Maria asks dubiously.  
  
“I know, I don’t even recognize myself,” Michael promises, but it’s not like he can explain the why.  
  
She brings him a tall glass of water and leaves him and Alex alone. For a long while, there’s nothing but silence, because Michael doesn’t want to push. Also, how the hell do you even start a conversation like this? Michael feels like he’s pushed Alex into a corner and hasn’t given him many options at all.  
  
Alex is a good man, of course he’s not going to leave Michael out to hang, especially not when he’s the father.  
  
“Hey,” Michael says, deciding to start with the basics.  
  
Alex doesn’t answer. He’s staring forward, looking paralyzed, which Michael gets. He’s been having panic attacks pretty much on a daily basis about the fact that he’s not ready for this. Alex coming back and telling him that they’re doing this together did seem a little too good to be true, so maybe he’s happy for the panic.  
  
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Alex says, voice tinny.  
  
“Yeah? Neither do I,” Michael admits with a laugh. “Alex,” he says, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “Hey, look at me. I told you because I wanted you to know. I meant what I said in the trailer, there’s zero expectation here for you to step up and be a dad for this kid. You’ll still be involved, but I got a good support system,” he promises and he does.  
  
Every time he panics, they’re there for him. He’s not sure how he’s earned that, but he’s planning to take advantage of it.  
  
“And I meant what I said. I’m not leaving you to do this on your own,” Alex replies, all that doubt gone from his voice. “Just, _fuck_ , Michael, you have to give me a second to process this. You’ve had months, I just found out.”  
  
Michael has had months and Alex is right. This isn’t the kind of thing that you just suddenly process. He can feel the baby pressing feet against his abdomen and he knows this is the wrong time to offer to let Alex feel, but he can also feel the kid’s insistence that he _comfort Daddy_ , which, okay, yeah, alien powers are a check.  
  
Michael wraps his arm around Alex’s shoulders and slides his stool in a little closer.  
  
“What can I do to make this easier?”  
  
“Go back in time and tell me about the great invention that is condoms?” Alex weakly jokes. He lets out a shaky laugh, giving Michael an apologetic look. “It’s not your fault. You had no idea this could happen, neither did I. I guess we just figure it out.”  
  
“Not alone,” Michael guarantees. “A very wise person told me that.”  
  
Alex keeps drinking and Michael lets him. Honestly, if their positions were reversed, he thinks he’d need to drink for a whole week before he could make heads or tails of any of this.  
  
That night, he carries Alex back to the trailer and sets him out in the bed. Turning to get him a blanket, he’s stopped by Alex’s hand on his wrist, tugging him back. “No,” he complains, definitely extremely drunk. “No,” he whines. “Come back to bed.”  
  
“You,” Michael says, yanking the fleece blanket from the cupboards and wrapping it around his shoulders as he bears down to kneel on the bed, “are so drunk.”  
  
Alex grins dopily up at him. “Yup.”  
  
“Which means I shouldn’t stay with you.”  
  
“No,” he complains, reaching out with his other hand to pull him in even harder. “I wanna feel you. I wanna have you beside you, I wanna…” His eyes go wide, like something’s just hit him. “Does the baby kick?”  
  
Michael unwraps the blanket and drapes it over Alex, making room for himself beside him. “Not exactly,” he says, lying beside Alex, trying to figure out the best way to describe it. “It’s more like pressure. The kid just sort of shifts and presses and it’s like a hard ridge. I don’t feel hands or feet.”  
  
It leads to theories about the fact that he has some kind of protective uterus-pod, but until they cut him open, they’re not going to know.  
  
Alex shifts so he can rub his cheek against Michael’s chest, both hands sliding off his wrists to press against the baby bump.  
  
“That’s my kid.”  
  
“Yeah, Alex,” Michael agrees with a fond laugh, forgetting how adorable Alex can get when he’s beyond liquored up. “That’s your kid making me pee five times an hour.” He knows that Alex will probably be back at the Pony tomorrow, maybe even a few more nights, but that’s fine.  
  
It's better than him running away, and Michael will take a little doubt any day.  
  
After all, he’ll be the first in line to say that he has no idea how the hell they’re going to do this.  
  
At least they’re in it together.  
  
*  
  
Four months later, Hope Guerin is born via a truly embarrassing c-section in a hospital wing during the early hours of the morning. She has Michael’s hair, but those eyes are all Alex Manes. Michael is still freaking out about how this is all going to work, but as Kyle works to sew him back up, Alex has a look on his face like he’s ready to take control of the situation.  
  
“Hey,” Michael mumbles, feeling drowsy and tense for having been on an operating table. “She got ten fingers and ten toes?”  
  
“Yeah, but she’s this weird  _green_ color…”  
  
Michael narrows his eyes at Alex, who’s hiding his smirk in his palm.   
  
“Get that baby in my arms and get my fiancé out of here,” Michael announces to the OR at large, and he knows he’s managed to get Kyle Valenti in his pocket when the man actually listens to him and tells Alex that he’d better behave or he heard the man.   
  
Cradling little Hope to his chest, Michael tilts his head to the side as he smiles warmly at her. “Hey, little seahorse,” he greets. “I’m probably gonna end up fucking up so may times,” he admits, and he’s already started given Max’s displeased look at the profanity. “Guess what, though. You got a whole family ready to make sure that I don’t fail. Welcome to the world, Hope. There’s a whole bunch that makes it worth living.”  
  
He’d only just realized some of it, but he plans on teaching Hope about all of that from the get-go.  
  
With Alex at his side, brushing his fingers over tawny golden hair, Michael stares at the weird little pod that she’d been encased in, but decides that science can wait for tomorrow. Right now? He’s got something even better to focus on.  
  
*  
  
“Mommy!”  
  
Alex rolls over in bed and stares with a glare in Michael’s direction. Nobody moves, and then Hope’s voice cuts through the silence again. “Mommy!” is louder, and there’s a thump against the wall that says that someone’s alien powers are being used in a tantrum.  
  
“That’s you, remember?” Alex shoves Michael.  
  
It had been a whole thing when Hope had asked who her mother was and Michael, not really ever caring about what anyone thought of him, pointed to himself. Ever since, Alex has been Dad and Michael’s been Mom and it’s weird, but when Hope is screaming for Mommy, it means that he hasn’t really got a chance to pretend that Hope could mean she wants Alex.  
  
He really backed himself into a corner on this one.  
  
Michael trudges down the hall, rubbing at his eyes and coming to a stop at Hope’s room, collapsing onto her bed and lying down beside her. “What’s up, seahorse?”  
  
“I can’t sleep,” she sulks. “I keep waking up because I didn’t get a good story before I fell asleep.” Maybe because she’d passed out in front of the television, but arguing with his toddler is a sign of insanity, not sense. “Mommy, tell me a story,” Hope says, snuggling into Michael’s side. “Tell me how you and Daddy fell in love.”  
  
“Well,” Michael says, patting his chest so Hope can rest her cheek on it. “A long, long time ago in a galaxy far away…”  
  
“Michael,” Alex’s sleepy voice interrupts. “The short story.”  
  
“Fine,” Michael sighs and strokes his fingers through Hope’s hair as Alex settles in on the other side of them. “When your Mom and your Dad were younger, they went to school together and Daddy played a guitar, just like a handsome prince. You know how he has the best lullaby voice?”  
  
“Yeah,” Hope agrees, flashing a secretive grin up at Alex.  
  
“Well, Daddy used to sing like that in our class and it made everything in my head go quiet, which meant that with all the quiet, it was full of thoughts of him, instead.” Michael peers up from where he’s telling the story, peppering kisses to Hope’s forehead. “I fell in love with him.”  
  
“Did you get a true love’s kiss?”  
  
“I did,” Michael whispers. “Under the stars, with lots of little aliens watching. We had to fight a big dragon with scary eyes and then Daddy had to go off and fight a big battle, but then he came home to us. He came home to me and to you,” he murmurs, watching as Hope’s eyes start to close, her breaths puffing as she sags into the bed, mouth open as she drifts off, sleep-warm and precious against Michael’s side.  
  
Michael gives Alex a shrug, because, “I don’t think I’m moving.”  
  
Alex settles in on the other side, reaching down to start unhooking his prosthetic, staring at the both of them in a way that makes Michael’s heart soar. “Then I guess neither am I.”  
  
If they stay right here forever, well, Michael’s not sure he sees the downside of that, so he lets himself fall asleep surrounded by the people he loves most in the whole wide world.


	7. melting over dad-skills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Michael are trying to be friends with all that cute awkward trying to be "just friends " bullshit and then one day Alex can't take it anymore and unexpectedly just kisses Michael.

If anyone had asked Alex which of the two of them would cope more poorly with being friends, he would have put money on Michael and felt easy about walking away with all of it. Alex is the one who always needs space, who walks away at the first drop of the cowboy hat, so of course being friends and building things up naturally is going to be easy for him. When things between Michael and Maria fizzle because Michael had taken Alex's lead and tried to be friends, he thinks that it'll be a walk in the park. There's no jealousy to worry about, and even though Michael keeps looking at him like he's waiting for Alex to make a move, he'd meant what he'd said.  
  
He doesn't want to rush into anything, he wants to start over, be friends. He wants to do things right because when he and Michael fall together again, Alex has plans for it to be permanent. So it should be easy, right? He's all for space and taking this slow. It should be a piece of cake.  
  
God, he’s so fucking wrong.  
  
He thinks it has to be like when you’re told you can’t have something. Suddenly, that turns into the only thing you could ever actually want. He wants to be friends with Michael, but when he starts doing that, he starts to see all the little things that he never paid that much attention to before.   
  
It’s in the way Michael smirks at him across a crowd when they’re with other people and someone says something that he knows Alex would laugh at. It’s how he absently fidgets with his fingers when he’s bored of the conversation and Alex knows his mind has wandered off to other problems. For the first time, Michael’s never-shifting gaze on him makes him prickle with something other than guilt and shame.  
  
It’s interest and it’s bubbling in his stomach.  
  
With every movie they go to see and their hands brush in their shared popcorn, with every investigation into alien conspiracies when they bicker about where they should research on the dark web, and with every time Michael sees him home to the cabin and walks him inside.  
  
There’s something building that he recognizes from when he’d been seventeen and crazy about a boy.   
  
Now he’s twenty-nine and he’s building a foundation with a man.   
  
The day Alex completely loses himself to that tidal wave of feeling, they’re at one of Michael’s old orphanages to see if they can find any clues about visitors that might have had too much interest in him. The lead is a bust, but before they leave, he loses Michael somewhere in the building.  
  
“Did you see where my friend went?” Alex asks the woman at the front desk, trying to ignore how ‘friend’ seems like the wrong word.   
  
She leans back and gives Alex an amused smile. “I think he found himself in a puppy pile.”  
  
“A puppy what?”  
  
Before Alex can get clarification, he hears the happy yelps and shrieks coming from the main room. He ducks out just in time to see a few of the younger kids from the home weaving around Michael, who’s taking it all with easy charm, laughing as he coaxes them back towards him, and eventually it ends with him crashing onto the floor, three of the kids pushing him and tackling him.  
  
“Get the monster!” the littlest one cries and jumps a little, though Michael catches him before he can stomp on anything too precious.   
  
He’s so  _good_  with them, like he’s remembering those times in his life when he was here and the joy had been few and far between. They end up whispering and giggling for a while until Michael glances up from where he’s walking with three young kids attached to his legs, catching Alex’s gaze in surprise.  
  
“No luck,” Alex says, leaning against the doorway and staring at Michael like he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life.  
  
It’s not a hard task when he really is the most beautiful thing.  
  
“Sorry, kiddos,” Michael says, patting their heads and prying them off his legs. “Hey, listen, I’ll come visit, okay?” On anyone else, Alex might see a false promise, but he knows that Michael will be here on the weekly until the kids find a home, because that’s just the kind of man he is and after the life he’s had, he knows better than to give an empty promise.  
  
“Do you hafta go, Mr. Guerin?” the littlest one asks, pouting.   
  
“I know it’s rough, Elias, but my friend over there, he needs me,” he says, glancing up and catching Alex’s eye. They hold that gaze for a long moment and Alex feels his breath catch in his throat as he’s threatened with an overwhelming burst of affection.   
  
He’s absolutely, ridiculously, completely in love with that man.   
  
“I’ll make sure to bring him back,” he guarantees, resting a hand on Michael’s back as they leave, because it’s the only point of contact he trusts himself with right now.   
  
The drive back is silent, but content. Michael stares out the windshield, but he’s smiling, like he’s still basking in the warmth of how those kids had reacted to him playing with them. Alex is content to watch him, because he’s never more beautiful than he is when he’s at peace.   
  
Later, when Michael drops him off at the cabin, Alex stays inside the truck while it idles. He’s staring forward at the sunset painting the cabin brilliant reds and oranges, avoiding looking at Michael, because he knows he’ll look just as good.  
  
“Hey,” Michael says, like he’s trying to snap him out of his daze. He reaches over, hand resting over his shoulder and squeezing lightly. “Wake up, man, we’re here.”  
  
“I know,” Alex says, knowing he has to be careful about this.  
  
He’s the one who wanted to be friends and start over, now he’s about to tell Michael something completely different. Maybe it doesn’t have to be them diving in completely, not just yet.   
  
He takes a deep breath. “Come inside, for a cup of coffee,” isn’t a plunge so much as dipping his toes in the water.   
  
Michael doesn’t need much convincing. He turns off the engine and follows Alex inside. Unfortunately, the night goes off the rails when Michael turns to ask him for some sugar for his coffee and instead of handing him the sugar jar, Alex grabs his cheeks and rocks him back against the fridge, kissing the hell out of him.   
  
“I’d say I’m sweet enough, but I really do want that sugar,” Michael murmurs, but he leans in for a softer kiss, tender and when he eases back, his face is awash with content and disbelief. “What about starting over?”  
  
“This feels a lot like it, to me,” Alex points out. “I can’t be your friend without wanting to kiss you. I’m pretty sure that’s an impossible thing.” He breathes in slowly, stroking his fingers down Michael’s back. “How about for a while, though, we do the friends and the kissing and the dating thing?”  
  
“Taking it slow?”  
  
“If you’re good with that,” Alex agrees.  
  
“Kiss me again and I'll see if I can make that work,” Michael says, and pulls him closer so Alex can do just that, and if starting over feels like this, then he could do this a dozen times over and never get tired of it.


	8. piercings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex removed all his piercings, except for one.

It’s all Liz’s fault.   
  
Back that up. Alex stares blearily at the group, because sure, it’s Liz’s birthday, but getting drunk at the closed Crashdown had been the start of a night of bad ideas, leading to them somehow playing a drunken Never Have I Ever like they’re still in high school. Liz had been the one to suggest it, or should he say that Tequila had been the one to suggest it, but it had definitely used Liz’s mouth for it.  
  
The night’s been getting progressively more sloppy. They’d lost Max and Liz to the storeroom earlier when they’d insisted on getting snacks, with Max returning wearing a fetching shade of red lipstick. Alex is learning  _so much_  about Kyle (a, the fact that he’s manscaped, and b, more important, that he’s kissed a guy is so fucking interesting he’s getting back to that later). Isobel has tried twice to venture into Michael’s mind when she hadn’t believed him when he didn’t drink to someone’s question, and Michael’s moved to sit beneath Alex (who’s on the counter), absently rubbing his calf, which means they’re on a countdown before it’s their turn in the supply closet.  
  
“Okay, okay, okay!” calls Liz, until she’s shouting the last piece. Everyone shuts up, even though the giggling fit between Maria, Kyle, and Isobel is so scary, because what the hell could those three be laughing about.  
  
Liz takes the tequila bottle and sways a little, the neck of the bottle pointed at Maria.   
  
“Someone,” she announces, “hasn’t had anything to drink in a while.”   
  
Maria’s smug smile is sweet as anything. “Is it my fault the last few rounds have all been about you guys being delinquents getting arrested?”   
  
“Yes,” Liz agrees, and elbows Max until he gives an ‘oof’. “Ask!”  
  
“Why can’t you….?”  
  
“Because I can’t!” Liz says, waving to her own ears, which Alex doesn’t get until Max takes in a long sigh and leans in for Liz to whisper it to him. He wobbles as he leans back (he must have been spiking with acetone, because Alex knows Max wouldn’t get that fucked up on liquor alone).   
  
“Never have I ever had piercings for longer than ten years?” Max asks, glancing to Liz like he’s checking if he did it right, which clearly he has, because Liz lets out a triumphant ‘ha!’   
  
Maria laughs as she drinks, then Liz and Isobel drink (with Isobel clearly annoyed about it, because it’s pretty low pickings).  
  
Alex drinks, too.  
  
“Hey, he said ten years,” Kyle is the one who notices, zeroing in on Alex. “You definitely don’t have the ear piercing anymore, and we all would’ve noticed the nose one. Plus, you only had that phase in high school for like, two years…”  
  
Michael is being suspiciously quiet right now, an amused smirk on his face.   
  
“She said piercings for longer than ten years. I have one.”  
  
“Where?” Maria demands, clearly part of the interrogation squad now. “You made us go with you to Claire’s and get your nose done, there’s no way you’d do this without us!” She’s pouting, even, like she’s genuinely hurt that he’d do this without his people.   
  
“Besides, you took them all out when you enlisted,” Kyle argues.  
  
“I didn’t take out all of them. Some of them were covered up by the uniform.”   
  
There’s a silence in the room and then all hell breaks loose.  
  
“Nipple? It’s gotta be the nipple,” says Isobel, and she and Maria share a conspiratorial nod, while Liz attacks from the front.   
  
“Oh, come on, you can’t say that and not show us!” Liz protests, reaching forward for his shirt collar, like she’s convinced she’s going to get him shirtless and the piercing’s going to be right there.  
  
It definitely won’t be, which is why he’s glad Michael suddenly stands (definitely having had too much to drink, because he plants himself in front of Alex to defend him, but he’s not exactly standing straight given the amount of booze he’s had).  
  
“No one is seeing the piercing,” he shouts. “Topic over!”  
  
“Topic over?” Isobel echoes mockingly. “Let us see your boyfriend’s nip-ring,” she pleads.  
  
“Isobel,” he hisses, and something must happen telepathically between them because Isobel collapses back into a peal of shocked laughter and Michael flushes a furious red.   
  
Alex suddenly has the feeling that Isobel  _knows_ , but it’s shut her up and Alex has the chance to get his shirt back on straight, while Michael sags back against Alex’s open legs.   
  
“All right, delinquents!” Maria shouts above the dying chaos (since Max and Liz are arguing about nipple ring impressions through t-shirts and Kyle is clearly starting to have his own ideas, given the slightly green look on his face), clearly attuned that it’s time to move on. “Never,” she insists, scanning the room and latching her gaze onto Max, “have I ever written someone a love poem longer than two pages…”  
  
With the topic suitably shifted, Michael slides his palm up Alex’s thigh, the hint of a promise of  _later_  in the spider-crawl of his fingers gradually upwards.   
  
*  
  
Later, when Michael rubs his thumb over the piercing on the shaft of his dick, just below the head, he mumbles possessive claims, promises that no one else is going to see this before he gets his lips on it again, reminding Alex why even though he’s grown up and taken out all the other piercings, this one is bound to stick around a long while.  
  
“Hey,” Alex breathes out, smirking as he looks down at Michael. “Never have I ever sucked someone’s pierced dick.”  
  
“I will swallow to that,” Michael guarantees, and wraps his mouth around Alex to stand true to his word.


	9. dr. guerin canon-swerve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael did go to UNM, but lost Alex the same way. Ten years later, they meet again in Roswell.

After Rosa dies and Michael takes the blame for it, he sees the way Isobel looks at him. Guilt and sympathy and a bundle of other emotions that he’s not sure he can deal with, and it never  _stops_. “I can’t stay,” he tells Max one night, even though things are tense between them, on the cusp of Rosa’s funeral. “I can’t take the way she looks at me, Max.”  
  
“Isobel needs us,” Max says sharply.   
  
“If I stay, I’m gonna end up telling her,” Michael admits, and as bad as it’ll be to abandon Isobel and Max in the middle of this, he knows if he stays and Isobel finds out, it’ll be so much worse. “She’s got you. You’re the ones with the connection and maybe for a little while, it’s better if I get out of here, before I break and tell her what happened. I’m not saying I’m going forever, but I can’t stay.”  
  
Max doesn’t look like he has the energy or the argument to convince him otherwise. He’s giving up his dream to go travel, but then, he didn’t decide to cover up a murder and earn his sister’s crushing sympathy for it.  
  
“It’s not the first time you two were on your own. You were fine last time, too,” Michael says, trying to ignore every stinging pain that says that they don’t need him. “I’ll go to UNM,” he shrugs. “That way, I can come back every once in a while to visit. It’s a good cover, but it gives me the space I need.”  
  
“Michael…”  
  
“This isn’t a reward,” he guarantees, lest Max think that somehow Michael is giving himself an out. Alex is gone, Isobel thinks he killed those girls, and Max will barely look at him. There’s nothing in him for Roswell and at least if he goes to school, he might actually be good at something.  
  
Max still looks like he isn’t convinced.  
  
“You better come back.”  
  
“Four years, maximum,” he vows.  
  
He keeps true to his promise, even if he doesn’t exactly follow the normal course most students do. Four years later, he hasn’t taken a semester off and he’s loaded up on extra classes, taking night ones in addition. For all that he could have a social life, he ignores it to throw himself into school because he discovers that equations, like music, can quiet his mind. It works, though. He doesn't see Isobel enough that he can buckle and tell her the truth about what happened that night and his relationship with Max even begins to repair, little by little, as they both grow up and are able to prioritize what's really important.  
  
Three years after that, Michael Guerin returns to Roswell with a PhD in astrophysics and his engineers’ ring for mechanical engineering. For a while, he teaches at the high school and moonlights at the junkyard, but then he starts hearing whispers that the government’s secretly looking into aliens through an unauthorized project.   
  
That’s when Michael decides that “hold your enemies closer” is sound advice and puts in a job application when they start hiring science geeks. Lucky for him, his credentials are impeccable and it's really not a question of whether he should be hired, but  _how fast_?  
  
He’s been consulting with the Air Force for two years now, with only one solid rule. He avoids Jesse Manes at all costs, even though it’s been almost ten years since the incident in the tool shed.    
  
He’s not sure he could avoid being arrested if he’s within four feet of the man, because his fucked up hand speaks of a lot of history, but Alex Manes’ absence from Roswell tells the rest of that story. Michael knows that Alex hadn’t decided to leave all on his own, that Jesse was the little angel and devil on his shoulder for that conversation.  
  
Alex has been in his head a lot, lately. With Isobel talking non-stop about the ten year reunion (and Michael is just so glad that she’ll speak to him, that she looks at him and he doesn’t see sympathy in her eyes anymore), Michael can’t stop thinking about Alex.  
  
It’s practically fate, then, what happens when he shows up to Foster Ranch to work, a few days before the reunion.  
  
They’ve been setting up for a few tests while they work to get zoning permission on the new facility and they want Michael testing the ground and the area around it. He's made sure that he's the one on this project after taking notice that the tests are being ordered by Master Sergeant Manes, looking for strange materials in the earth.  
  
He’ll swap out the test results for some fake ones, keep the real specimens, but even now he feels smugly right that he’d made the right call taking this job. At least, he feels pretty good until he sees some of the new guys in Roswell hovering around  _his trailer_.  
  
The one rule of a site - stay away from Doctor Guerin’s shit, or get what’s coming to you.  
  
“Hey!” he snaps, annoyed that a new bunch of recruits are traipsing around on his territory. He gives the CO an annoyed look, but the other man shrugs as if he can’t be held accountable for what these kids do, which means Michael needs to deal with this himself. “That’s my lab, you’re going to contaminate the…”  
  
He yanks at the soldier’s arm, but when he turns him around, it’s Alex Manes.  
  
Shit.  
  
“Alex…”  
  
They stare at each other for a long time. He knows all about Alex’s accident, knows about the IED, knows about his leg. He’d managed to get the reports with his clearance and while he’d begged for an assignment that brought him over there, they’d kept him here in Roswell to clear the land for their new facility, citing Michael's desire to be close to family, which he usually uses to prevent himself from being reassigned.   
  
It figures that would bite him in the ass when he’d wanted to go after the only other family that mattered.  
  
“This is yours?” Alex asks, pointing to the trailer.  
  
“I mean, it belongs to the good ol’ US government,” Michael says, leaning forward to open the door so he can reveal the lab inside. He’s running the tests they’ve been asking for (chem tests, soil tests, and helping to plan the site), but he’s also using the opportunity to sneak in at night and get pieces off Foster Ranch.   
  
It’s all kinds of win-win-win here.   
  
“I didn’t know you’d be here today,” Alex admits. “I heard you were working with us…”  
  
“Yeah?” Michael has had countless fantasies about what it’d be like to run into Alex again, but standing on a work site surrounded by coworkers hadn’t been in the list. He thinks that the CO would get a little pissed off if Michael backed Alex against the trailer and made out with him for the next forty minutes. “High school physics got boring, plus the job at the junkyard doesn’t exactly pay very well.”  
  
He doesn’t think he should say,  _I’ve been waiting for you, I keep waiting for you to walk into a meeting room and be on my project, I’ve been needing to see you again.  
_  
Here he is, as large as life, and twice as handsome as Michael remembers him being.  
  
“I heard you got your doctorate. I meant to send a card, but we were in the middle of the desert and…”  
  
“It’s okay,”  Michael promises. “You don’t have to apologize, it’s just a piece of paper.”  
  
From the proud look on Alex’s face, he clearly doesn’t think so. He’s felt this before. With Max and Isobel, he’d felt it, that gut-punch of pride when he feels so happy of his accomplishments and no matter the dark sins of his past, he’s proven that he can be something.   
  
The moment draws on, but it doesn’t feel awkward. If anything, it’s heated, the two of them staring at each other while the world around them shrinks.   
  
“Are you going to the reunion?” Michael asks, when the silence between them starts to feel heavy and Michael starts to think about doing things other than  _talking_  again.  
  
“I was thinking about it, but it felt a little like adult prom to me and my history with that isn’t so great,” Alex answers over his shoulder, but he doesn’t fully turn around. “You?”  
  
“I was waiting to see if I could find a date. I don’t know,” Michael admits, heart pounding in his chest. “Isobel’s planning it, so I probably have to go no matter what. I said I’d help with the slideshow, so…” So there's definitely going to be a lot of photos of Alex in there, because  _someone_ has a personal bias.  
  
“It could be fun,” Alex offers.  
  
That ripple of connection is back and the heavy heat between them with it. Michael forces himself to look at Alex’s uniform so he doesn’t do something stupid like haul him inside the research lab and break all the samples by pushing him to the table. Alex looks like he’s considering things of his own, his eyes clearly on Michael’s lips.  
  
“I should get back,” Alex finally admits, though he sounds weirdly disappointed. “I’m just here to help see the sale of the site through, I need to be back on base.” He lingers, again, like he’s waiting for Michael to say something.  
  
Michael wishes someone had handed him a script or something, because he’s lost.  
  
With one last shrug, Alex turns to start making his way out, leaning heavy on his crutch as Michael watches him go.   
  
“You’re the stupidest genius I know,” the CO mutters as he walks past, shaking his head. “Or did they not teach you romance at UNM?”  
  
“Fuck off,” Michael hisses, which will probably get him a reprimand later, but it does do the trick of spotlighting the very big elephant in the room he’d been missing. The reunion, the hesitation, Alex’s waiting and disappointment…  
  
“Hey!” Michael shouts after Alex, before he can get back in the car. Capitalizing on his courage, not caring how many people are around them, he keeps going, figuring in for a penny, in for a kiloton. “You wanna be my date to adult prom? I figure, I’m this published mechanical engineer with a pretty sweet gig,” he says, with a casual shrug, “I might be able to hold my own against a decorated airman.”  
  
Alex hasn’t fully turned around, but he’s smiling a little, lips curved upwards.The sun catches him perfectly, making his skin seem to glow, more beautiful than any alien piece Michael’s hiding in his bunker.   
  
Michael tries not to think about how he’s asked Alex in front of a shitload of people and given their history, that might be a bad idea.  
  
Lucky for him, history isn’t repeating itself. “Pick me up at six,” Alex says over his shoulder. “I expect you in a suit, Dr. Guerin,” he adds, and even from here, Michael can see the way Alex licks his lips, like the image of Michael in a suit in his head is tasty in and of itself.  
  
He picks Alex up at six in a suit, and he’s got a corsage with him.  
  
“Happy adult prom, huh?” Alex jokes.  
  
Pinning it to Alex’s flannel (because the bastard made Michael dress up and then didn’t himself), he thinks he’ll figure out some fair revenge later. “Only if we end the night better than it did ten years ago.”  
  
“I think that can be arranged.”


	10. cowboy-hatted alex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex keeps wearing Michael's black cowboy hat and he likes it; Michael really likes it.

When Alex spends the night, he notices that Michael keeps his black cowboy hat near at hand, like if there were a fire in the middle of the night, it would be one of his precious few possessions that he’d end up grabbing to go out with him. He’s not sure if it’s the aesthetic he likes, if it’s some kind of security blanket item (like a child would keep a stuffed animal), or if it’s supposed to be a hint to Alex.

Alex decides that he’s going with hint after he spends the night and Michael takes off the hat to set it perfectly in line with Alex’s vision. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he pants, as Michael comes, Alex’s eyes on that hat, an idea forming. “C’mon, cowboy,” he growls, while Michael rides him and manages to look damn sexy in the process, sending them over the edge. 

They collapse wrapped around one another, Michael stroking his fingers through Alex’s hair. “You’d look so good,” he mumbles, clearly on the verge of passing out, “in my…” Whatever else he has to say, it’s mumbled and lost to sleep.

It’s a good thing Alex can read between the lines.

*

The first time he does it, Michael texts him in a frantic rush saying that he can’t find his hat.

Alex smirks as he adjusts it on his head, telling Michael that he’s sure he’s going to find it soon enough and to come to the Crashdown before his lunch gets too cold. Liz drops off the plates with an amused look, gesturing to the black cowboy hat on top of his head. 

“Does he know you’re out in public with it?”

Alex sips from his glass of water. “He’s about to.” 

Michael’s still in a frantic rush, which Alex is amused to see given that it’s incredibly telling how much worth he puts in a single piece of clothing. He can tell the exact moment he sees Alex in it, because his determined walk inside comes to a sudden halt, his boots scraping on the ground when he comes to a stop just beside the booth.

Alex leans forward for a fry, casually, popping it into his mouth as he looks up at Michael past the brim of the black hat. “Howdy,” he says, having been waiting for that since morning.

Michael leans forward to grab the hat off Alex’s head when he slides into the other side of the booth, a wide-eyed, stunned look on his face. Before he can resituate the hat in its proper home, he leans forward and kisses Alex hard on the lips.

“What?” Alex asks, kind of lost between the mixed signals here. “Do you not want me to wear it?”

“Opposite,” is all Michael says, and from the way he’s shifting in the booth, Alex suspects that he might be regretting wearing the tight jeans that he’s wearing.

Alex smiles privately to himself as he digs into lunch and begins to make more plans. “Okay,” is all he says, with a nod of his head, because he can definitely work with that.

*

The second time, he gives Michael at least a hint of warning. “I’m taking your hat,” is all he says. “If you want to see me in it, you better come to the Pony.” He hangs up when Michael sputters and protests, for reasons Alex is still piecing together, though he has a pretty good suspicion about why Michael is all bothered to see Alex in it.

Once he’s alerted Michael to where he’ll be, he takes the hat along with his guitar case, and asks Maria for permission to set up on the stage. She takes one look at his hat, snorting with amusement, and gestures towards it. 

“I’d ask what you’re doing, but I already think I know,” she tells him. “Does he know you’re wearing it?”

“This time, yeah,” Alex brags, because he’s learned from his lesson. “Besides, it looks better on me.”

She gives him a lift of her brow, like she’s questioning that, but then again, in this Alex knows he and Maria have similar tastes and though they don’t talk about the fact that they’ve both dated Michael at different points, they can at least bond over their appreciation of him, even if Alex is the one who’d ended up with him.

Alex settles in to play before Michael shows up, working his way through his limited country catalogue to keep the locals happy. 

When Michael walks in the door, Alex doesn’t feel guilty for a single second when he switches chords mid-song and begins a slow, soft transition to sing Cowboy, Take Me Away to only one man in the room, even though Alex is currently wearing his hat.

Michael leans against the doorway as he drinks a bottle of beer and Alex could swear that he doesn’t blink once for the whole time that he’s staring. It occurs to Alex that it’s the thirstiest that the Wild Pony has ever seen a man be, and he smirks with triumph because he knows it’s all for him.

Yeah, Alex thinks. He’s definitely going to keep wearing the hat if this is the reception it gets him.

*

The third time, he puts it on in the early morning after he’s stayed over. 

Alex also suspects that it’s the kind of situation that Michael wanted in the first place when he’d been picturing Alex in the hat. 

He’s the first one up, so he sets the coffeemaker to brew and then he lets his fingers trail along the rim of the hat, deciding to give in to Michael’s desires one more time and see what happens when Alex wears the hat in private. He picks it up from the trailer counter and taps it against his chest a few times, a smug smirk on his lips. He’s not wearing anything (because Michael still has the windows of the trailer papered up and no one’s going to catch a view), so he’s naked as the day he was born. By the time he finishes brewing the pot of coffee, he’s slid the cowboy hat on, and returns to bed to wait for Michael to wake up. He’s set his crutch lying against the bed and Alex has perched on the end wearing nothing but the black cowboy hat and a smile, leisurely sipping his cup of coffee.

He can tell the moment Michael wakes up, going from a lazy bleariness to stunned alertness when his eyes catch Alex.

“Good morning,” he greets him, raising his brows like he’s been waiting for this all night (and technically, he’s been waiting for this since 5AM when he’d risen early thanks to old habits).

Michael rubs his eyes, like he doesn’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

Then, he goes back to gaping, when he seems to have realized that yes, Alex is still there, yes, Alex has made coffee, and yes, Alex is currently wearing nothing but Michael’s black cowboy hat. 

“Put the coffee down,” Michael says hoarsely. 

Alex likes where this is going, but he thinks there’s more of a reaction he can get if he just waits. He sips at the coffee, playing dumb. “Why would I do that?”

It turns out, Michael hadn’t really been asking is what Alex finds when the coffee is suddenly telekinetically pried from his fingertips and clatters messily in the sink, wasting a perfectly good cup of coffee. That cup becomes the last thing on his mind when he’s pulled forward, Michael’s good hand roughly cupping Alex’s neck and yanking him on top of Michael, a reverse of the night before.

“You,” Michael says, voice barely registering as anything beyond a growl, “look better than you have any right to in that thing.”

“Well, now you know how I feel.”

Later that morning, Alex has put his prosthetic and his clothes back on, but when he goes to the Crashdown to get them breakfast, he’s still wearing the hat, a smug grin, one additional piece of Michael’s wardrobe, and a few new hickeys pepper his neck. Liz hands him the bag of food, giving him a dubious look. 

“Tell Guerin I’m tired of seeing your kinky sex roleplay in public,” is all she has to say about it. “And ugh, now I’m never going to be able to listen to that song without imagining the two of you.”

It’s a small price to pay for the look on Michael’s face when he wears the hat, so Alex shrugs it off with a blissful grin, thanks Liz for the food, and heads back to the trailer to see if him showing up with the hat tipped low, nothing but his lips on display, and walking hips first into the trailer to show off Michael’s belt-buckle (that he’d stolen to go with his jeans) will have the same effect as he’d had this morning in just the hat.

(He quickly discovers that yes, yes it does, and it’s the best dress-up game he’s ever played. Maybe next time, he can convince Michael to wear the beret and the rest of Alex’s uniform and they can really torment Roswell)


	11. halloween party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael wants to be Alex’s hero, and what better time than when he's dressed up for it at Halloween.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergent just around 1x04-ish.

“You have to come.”  
  
Michael rolls his eyes and debates taking Isobel to task over the fact that he doesn’t _have_ to do anything. He doesn’t have to put up with his siblings just because Max fucked up and he especially doesn’t have to turn up to his Halloween party just because he wants to have an excuse to have Liz around.  
  
“No,” he calmly replies. “I don’t.”  
  
“Fine,” Isobel huffs. “You don’t have to, but I think I know one formerly-eyeliner-shaped reason you’ll _want_ to come. When Max invited Liz, she asked if she could bring him, too. Something about the fact that she doesn’t want him to sit around feeling lonely on Halloween.”  
  
He grimaces, glad they’re not having this conversation face to face so she can’t see the moment that he goes from intending to ignore the party completely to figuring out what he’s going to dress as. “Fine,” he snaps, aware that he’s mimicking her tone right down to the huff. “This isn’t for Max, though.”  
  
“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” says Isobel and hangs up on him.  
  
He doesn’t put much effort into his costume, but given that the party is in a few hours and the last place he intends to show his face is the discount Halloween store, he thinks it’ll pass muster.   
  
At least, for anyone _but_ Max Evans, it turns out.   
  
“What, exactly, are you supposed to be dressed up as?” Max asks as soon as Michael walks in. Michael’s wearing a plaid button-down shirt atop a pair of beige slacks. He’s wearing a pair of black-rimmed glasses and has tousled his hair so that it’s a riotous mess -- even more than usual. He lowers his drink and the glare comes out in full force. “If this is some awful joke about boring people…”  
  
If it weren’t for the fact that Michael actually wants to be here (especially since he caught a glimpse of Alex in the crowd), he’d take this as an excuse to walk out. Now that he’s here, he plans to stand his ground, which means shutting down Max before he gets into dramatics about Michael not observing the theme.  
  
“Max, calm your ass down, it’s a costume,” Michael interrupts. “Besides, aren’t you happy I didn’t come to your Halloween party dressed as a little green alien?”  
  
Max grimaces, but Michael hears the ‘yes’ that gets eked out.  
  
“See?” Michael says cheerfully, clapping a hand on Max’s shoulder as he wanders inside to grab a drink.  
  
He ducks Ortecho, who’s copped out by dressing as a scientist (about as bad as Max going as a cowboy) and greets Isobel, who’s wearing a sexy cop outfit that Michael suspects is from her and Noah’s roleplay collection.   
  
“You came,” she greets him, offering him a hug.  
  
“I wish I wasn’t thinking about other times you’ve said that while wearing those clothes,” Michael complains, and fully deserves the smack that she gives him. “Ow. And yet, accurate,” he protests, taking her silence as confirmation.   
  
She lets her eyes roam over him, shaking her head. “I don’t get your costume. Are you supposed to be a nerd?”  
  
“ _No_. Iz, come on. It’s fine,” he promises, because the only person he wants to figure it out is Alex. “So, tell me what’s new…”  
  
All the while he’s talking to her, he’s trying hard not to spend too long looking at Alex, who’s also wearing a cowboy outfit and lingering nearby. He knows he’s biased, but Michael definitely thinks that Alex pulls off the cowboy look a hell of a lot better than Max does.  
  
Things are still awkward between them, have been since the drive-in, but Michael feels like tonight’s it. If Liz wants to make sure Alex isn’t locking himself away in his house and avoiding the world, then Michael is going to take advantage and see if they can’t have a mature talk as adults. It’s a chance he’s been handed on a platter and he doesn’t intend to ignore it.   
  
He tells Isobel that he’ll come back later when another of Max’s guests drifts away from the conversation he’s been holding with Alex, eager to take advantage. Alex looks like he’s going for a drink refill, which means that Michael gets there first. He leans his hip up against the table by the big windows at the front of the party, pushing his fake glasses up his nose as he pretends to be needing the help to see Alex’s costume.   
  
“Yeehaw,” Michael deadpans as he reaches out to tip Alex’s hat. “You know, if you really wanted my hat that badly, you could’ve just asked nicely when you were over last time.”  
  
He takes abject pleasure in the way that Alex blushes for him, cheeks going bright. “Guerin,” he says, and Michael knows this is it. If he doesn’t completely mess this up in the next few hours, he’s in good shape. “Interesting costume choice,” Alex praises. “I forgot that you stole those comics from me in the toolshed and never gave them back. I always knew you liked them.”  
  
“What can I say, you’ve got great taste,” he praises with a grin, pouring Alex a drink so he can hold it out in offering.   
  
Before he can ask how Alex is doing, chaos descends as the glass from Max’s front window shatters inwards. It’s instantaneous. Michael doesn’t even think, he just moves to cover Alex’s body with his own to shield him, eyes squeezed shut. The offending weapon (a heavy brick with a note wrapped around it) clatters at their feet, but Michael’s still got both arms wrapped around Alex protectively, keeping him turned away.   
  
Whoever threw the brick is running off, laughing gleefully about “cops are pigs, dickwads!”, which means this has nothing to do with aliens and everything to do with Max’s day job.  
  
Max looks across the room to where Jenna is standing (dressed as Annie Oakley), and there’s radio chatter happening and plans being made to chase after the suspect.  
  
In the haze of chaos, no one’s noticed that every single piece of glass is currently hovering in the air around Michael just a few inches from the ground, which he quickly lets drop before it becomes suspicious. He can excuse it away as people being in a state of shock if they ask later about what they’d seen.   
  
He also takes the chaos as the excuse not to let Alex go just yet.  
  
“Guerin,” Alex protests. “I’m fine.” Alex’s drink is crumpled on the floor from trampling feet as people had rushed away from the windows, but Alex looks at him with disbelief and gratitude. “I think you’re in the wrong version of that costume, though,” he says breathlessly, reaching up to slide the glasses off of Michael’s face. He’s able to, because he’s being fully supported by the way Michael is still holding him with one arm around his neck, the other pressed firmly to the small of his back.   
  
“Nah,” Michael insists, feeling pretty robbed of breath himself. “Clark Kent’s every bit as heroic as Superman, they just do it in different ways.”   
  
Alex laughs brightly, full of joy and disbelief. “My hero,” is what he says.   
  
Instead of arguing about heroes and who’s rescuing who and under which name, Michael kisses Alex, dipped right there in his arms, fake glasses dangling from Alex’s fingers. As far as sexy world-saving aliens go, he’s always associated way more with the undercover one professing normalcy, but if he gets to save Alex Manes and kiss him like that world’s been ending, then maybe he can get used to being Superman, too. 


	12. alex rescues a dog

When he’d been in high school and Maria had told him and Liz that his mother was psychic, he’d spouted a lot of scientific bullshit about how it’s all self-fulfilling prophecy and most people just believe in what they want to because a good cold read can fool anyone.   
  
Maria had nearly cried that day and Liz had punched him so hard that his arm bruised, so he’s shut up about it ever since.  
  
Still, when he and Michael are making out in the alley behind the Wild Pony, he never thought he’d be on this end of a self-fulfilling prophecy, but here he is. It’s not even the Michael part of it, though Mimi and Maria both have called out that  _hope_ would be coming in Alex’s life (and he hadn’t even laughed at the very literal translation of that) even though Maria’s prediction had come with its own bitterness, given that Alex’s hope had belonged to her for a bright and brilliant flash before it had come winding its way back to Alex.   
  
No, it’s the fact that when he hears the mournful whimpering and he goes to investigate, he discovers a trembling beagle in between several trash cans. Mimi's prediction rattles around in his head and he thinks about the beagle that she'd predicted for him. He's pretty sure that he never made this happen, so maybe he should take back some of what he'd said about 'self fulfilling prophecies'.  
  
While he's having his crisis, Michael's having one of his own.  
  
“Hey, what are you doing?” Michael calls after him, chasing him as he fumbles to adjust his unbuttoned shirt. “Why’d you run off like…” He trails off, seeing what Alex has found from over his shoulder. “No, no, no,” he says, shaking his head, taking a step back.  
  
Wait. Is Michael...?  
  
“Are you seriously scared of a dog?”  
  
“Do you see Max or Iz with pets? Who knows how they’ll react to…” He finishes this with a frightened little hiss of air as he steps back, looking at the malnourished beagle like it’s going to lunge out and bite him.   
  
Alex gapes at Michael Guerin like he’s seeing him for the first time.  
  
“You’re scared of a dog.”  
  
“I have realistic apprehensions about one!” he snaps back at him, his eyes wide with the panic. “Maybe because I  _know_  my boyfriend a little too well. I know what happens when he sees down on their luck strays,” he keeps going, shaking his head like he already knows how this story ends.  
  
Alex is already ruffling the dog’s fur behind her ears, trying to work his nail through the dirty mats, thinking about how much food she’ll need and what to name her and where she’ll sleep.   
  
He’s also aware of what Michael just said.  
  
“Your boyfriend?”  
  
Michael flushes and stares at Alex, then the dog, shoulders sagging as he admits defeat. “You saying you’re not?”  
  
“I didn’t think you were saying that,” Alex admits, staring at the dog. He already knows that he’s taking the beagle home with them and it has  _nothing_ to do with the future that Mimi had seen for him, but would he have been so eager to take the dog if she hadn’t?  
  
Well, he doesn’t plan to find out.  
  
“This isn’t a deal breaker or anything, is it?” Alex checks, because he’s pretty sure that he’s not going to ruin them because he adopts a stray rescue, but sometimes with Michael, he never knows what’s going to create a rift.  
  
Michael makes a face at the dog, like he’s afraid that Alex is suddenly going to start loving it more. “It’s fine,” he grumbles, “but don’t expect me to take care of it! And I’m definitely not gonna like it.”  
  
Alex makes a ‘sure you won’t’ face with a lift of his eyebrows, but he uses his jacket to bundle up the puppy. “You’re coming home with us, girl,” he says warmly, tucking her in against his chest. “Don’t listen to the alien,” he whispers to her, but loud enough for Michael to hear. “He likes to pretend he’s a tough angry cowboy, but we know better, don’t we?”  
  
“I mean it,” Michael grumbles as they leave the alley. “This is  _your_ dog.”  
  
*  
  
Three weeks later, Alex whistles to get Phoebe to come to bed, but she doesn’t appear. He levers sideways for his crutch so he can make it out to the main room, where Michael has fallen asleep watching television on the couch, Phoebe snuggled in his arms.  
  
Both of them are snoring and conked out, but Michael’s hand is buried in Phoebe’s fur, clearly having fallen asleep while petting her.  
  
Yeah, Alex isn’t the only one who sees an underdog and decides to take a chance on them. He grins as he makes himself some space on the couch for himself so he can curl up with them.   
  
 _His dog_ has someone become Michael’s napping partner, foot heater, and playmate. Sure, he hadn’t expected Michael to stay apprehensive and scared of the dog forever, but he’s still going to tease his boyfriend about that for years to come.  
  
Self-fulfilled or not, Mimi had been right - she’s a beautiful girl and Alex has given her part of his heart. Michael went and gave her even more, so he knows that she’s not going  _anywhere_.


	13. marry me (so I know if anything happens)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Alex has a health scare, he and Michael get married, just in case something worse happens; that way, Michael will be told.

In 2016, Alex comes back to Roswell quietly on the heels of a scare with his health and his first stop is to a trailer in the middle of the junkyard, where he’d found Guerin last time. He’s heard that he’s been hopping around dairy ranches, but the last one went out of business and he’s back with Sanders while he looks for the next gig.   
  
They’d found something when Alex had gone in for his physical and for the scariest few days, Alex had waited for tests to be run. He’d withdrawn from everyone during those days, not knowing what he’d do if he suddenly was given a timer that counted down his last moments.  
  
When the diagnosis had come back benign, it had been like a spotlight.  
  
He’d made a list. It’s not a bucket list, not really, but it’s a list of things that would make his life meaningful. First up, here at this junkyard, a man that may or may not even let them talk.   
  
Michael opens the door and stares at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. The silence draws out to the point that Alex starts fidgeting. He’s about to tell Michael that he’ll leave when Michael steps down to the ground with a heavy landing, his eyes roaming over Alex’s body.   
  
“What are you doing here?” Guerin asks, when he walks into the trailer and Alex is sitting there.   
  
“Can we talk?”  
  
It doesn’t turn out to be much talking. Alex barely tells Michael about the health scare before he’s being lifted onto the counter and Alex is kissing Michael with the kind of angry desperation that he’d felt when he’d been waiting for his test results.   
  
It’s thrown everything into perspective. It’s shown him exactly what he wants.  
  
 _This_. He wants this.  
  
“How long are you here?” Michael asks, stroking his fingers over Alex’s bare chest when they’re collapsed on the shitty bed in the trailer and Alex has caught him up on the test, on the scare, and how he’s absolutely fine.  
  
Alex rests his chin on Michael’s collarbone, hating that his answer won’t make anyone happy. “I have a week of leave,” he says, the next words stuck in his throat. “Listen, I didn’t just come to see you.”  
  
“You kind of came all over mmfhf…”

Alex claps his hand over Michael’s mouth, because this is serious.   
  
“I’m serious. I’m here because I don’t want to put off what I want just because my father scared me out of it, because I was young and stupid.” Michael doesn’t say anything, but then again, Alex is still covering his mouth. Eventually, he hears a muffled sound, something like ‘what do you want, Alex?’ He takes in a deep breath and decides that the worst that can happen is Michael kicks him out of the trailer naked.  
  
It’s the junkyard. He’s sure stranger things have happened here.  
  
“Marry me.”  
  
Michael squints at him, prying the hand off his mouth. “I think you fucked me into a coma, because I could swear you just proposed to me.”  
  
“Yeah.” Alex lets out a breathless laugh. “Yeah, I did.” And, also, “You haven’t said anything yet.”  
  
“I mean, you show up out of nowhere eight years later, worried about your health, and now you’re proposing. You’re sure that test was fine, you don’t have a weird tumor…”  
  
Alex shoves Michael back down to the bed and crawls on top of him with a disbelieving look.   
  
“Marry me,” he says again. “If something did happen to me, I’d want you to know.” And there’s something more than that. “And, I realized that if I was facing down death, my life’s got a bunch of regrets, but the biggest one is walking away from you.”  
  
Michael stares at him, reverently in awe.  
  
Oh god, he’s still not saying anything and it’s killing him.  
  
“Guerin,” he pleads.  
  
“Yeah,” Michael finally says, like he can’t believe he’s hearing the word. It’s soft, touched, and filled with fondness. “ _Yes.”  
_  
It’s not much. They have to grab a stranger milling around outside city hall and the rings are things that Michael’s found over the years in old cars. They sign papers and Alex knows that no matter what happens, at least they can’t cut Michael completely out of his life.  
  
Unfortunately, their joy, their giddiness, this brief respite in a sea of despairs only lasts so long, because Alex only has a week of leave and that means six days later, he’s at the local air base with Michael, saying his goodbyes.  
  
“You don’t have to go,” Michael says, a desperate last minute plea.   
  
The trouble is that Alex hasn’t come around to the idea that the air force isn’t an integral part of his life. There’s a family name to live up to and even if his father is terrible, that doesn’t mean Alex isn’t striving to make him proud.  
  
Maybe, just maybe, he can have Michael and he can earn his father’s affection.  
  
“Yeah. I do.” They’re words that he said a week ago, but this time instead of making Michael light up like the night sky, they leave him standing on the tarmac looking like Alex has broken his heart.   
  
The entire flight back, he feels awful that he’d left the way he had. The image of his father in his mind had scared him again, reminded him of all the things he had the power to do, and how Alex had to get back to his duty. He knows Michael may hate him for it, especially after he reads the letter Alex had left for him. It talks about wanting to live up to his family’s legacy (when really, he means he just wants to survive it), but there’s also something hopeful in his words, talking about a future where they can be together and Alex is done with all of this. When Michael finds the letter in his trailer, Alex suspects there might be divorce papers waiting for him on the other end, but he has to think about the part where he’s hoping for an  _after_  to his service.  
  
Alex is choosing to focus on the hope.   
  
It’s the connection that he and Michael have, even if Alex has ruined things for now by leaving. It’s the piece of paper sitting in Michael’s trailer that binds them together as husbands, it’s the rings he’s entrusted in Michael’s care, and it’s the knowing that if anything happens to him, then Michael is going to be the very first phone call.  
  
Maybe when his enlistment period is over, maybe he can explain it to Michael and they can get past this. Maybe Alex won’t be so indebted to his dad.   
  
For now, he’ll have to live on the memories of the scant brush with happiness they’d managed to steal.  
  
*  
  
He calls Michael after the drugs are flushed out of his system, feeling scared and tired and alone. “You didn’t come.”  
  
“No passport,” Michael replies, sounding hollow and exhausted. “Funny how your military guys didn’t take my breakdown on the tarmac as a signal to let me on their plane so I could come see my husband.”   
  
Alex knows this is a legitimate reason for Michael to not be there, at his side.  
  
And yet, without his leg and without Michael, the loss seems to compound.   
  
“I wish you were here.”  
  
“Yeah,” Michael’s voice is quiet and given that the only other sound is the heart monitor attached to him, Alex doesn’t want him to hang up.   
  
“Talk to me,” he pleads.  
  
“Why’d you have to go back?” Michael demands, the pain digging new wounds into Alex’s skin for all the pain that’s in his voice. “Why, Alex? Why did you have to…”  
  
He doesn’t hang up, but Alex almost wishes he had, because the sound of Michael’s breath hitching on the line is more than he can take. “Michael,” he breathes, finger hovering on the ‘disconnect’ button, but he doesn’t press it. He can’t bring himself to, even as much as this hurts. “Please, just talk to me. Tell me about your day, about Roswell, please…”  
  
It takes Michael a long, shuddering moment, but eventually, he complies and Alex lets himself drift off to sleep fighting off the worst pain of his life, but with a shred of hope on the horizon.  
  
*  
  
It’s months later and Alex has been doing his best to avoid Michael in a small town like Roswell. What the hell else are you supposed to do after you basically tell your husband that you don’t think it’s going to work out, all the while the town eavesdrops?   
  
He’s in the middle of his PT exercises when his phone rings. Leaning over, Alex checks the caller ID, sending it straight to speaker since it’s only Kyle.   
  
“Hey, what’s up?”  
  
“Alex,” Kyle says, “I need you to come to the hospital.”  
  
“If this is about my prosthetic, I’m coming in…”  
  
“It’s Guerin.”  
  
That stops him in his tracks. Michael kind of hates Kyle, so why the hell would Kyle be the one calling him about his husband?  
  
“What do you mean? What about Michael?”  
  
“He had you listed as his next of kin, even if I had to go digging for it,” Kyle says, with a tone that says he has the feeling that he knows why the information had been so hard to find. “Funny how I managed to dig up a marriage record from 2016. All this time…?”  
  
“It was so that we had a connection, so if something bad happened…”  
  
Alex stares down to his bad leg, where the prosthetic lies beneath his pants.  
  
It turns out that something bad had happened and even their plan hadn’t been able to get Michael to him, but at least it had kept him in the loop. “Look, just, keep him sedated and calm, I’ll be there soon.”   
  
He books it to the hospital, not sure that Michael will want to see him, though maybe he’ll be a lot more willing to see Alex when he realizes that he’s the jailbreak about to happen. He’s never known why Michael hates hospitals so much, but when he’d been insistent about not going after the incident with his hand, Alex had respected him enough to let it go.  
  
“What happened?” Alex demands, when he finds Kyle.  
  
“Sanders brought him in, which is dangerous in itself, the man really shouldn’t be driving,” Kyle scoffs. He hasn’t got a chart, which is strange, but he seems to know the case. “Guerin was helping with some of the gutters on the roof and the wood collapsed. He fell two stories, broke his leg in a few places. I’ve got him in a cast, but he can’t stay here.”  
  
“Why not?” Alex demands.  
  
“Get me out of here!” Michael shouts from inside the room. “Valenti, I swear to god, I’m gonna wedgie you from here if you don’t get me a wheelchair and…”  
  
Kyle points to the room as if proof, opening the door enough that he can show off Alex. “Look who I found. Your husband,” he says sarcastically, giving Alex a light push inside. “You deal with him.”  
  
Michael’s gone completely blank and quiet, gaping at Alex, like he’s embarrassed with the fact that Kyle knows what they did. That shock lasts about two seconds before Michael shifts in the hospital bed, fumbling to grab at the covers, his clothes, pretty much anything he can.  
  
“Good, you’re here, help get me discharged,” Michael says.  
  
Alex can’t do that just yet because he’s too busy being so  _angry_.  
  
“What the hell were you thinking?” he hisses, storming towards Michael, heart pounding with fear. They’d gotten married because they’d always been worried about what might happen to Alex. Michael’s the one in Roswell. Michael’s the one who should be taking care of himself.  
  
He’s not the one who should be lying in a hospital bed, bringing back awful memories to Alex. And yet, Michael’s staring at him with that fondness, that  _I never look away_  smile on his lips, like he knows a stupid secret that Alex doesn’t and he kind of hates it, so he’s going to stay mad.  
  
“Next time you decide to do something stupid like try to get something from Sanders’ roof without someone steadying the ladder, I’m going to…” Alex doesn’t finish his warning, because Michael leans up to kiss him, shutting him up. Alex flushes, but he’s not deterred. “You broke your leg! You fell from two stories up, Michael, how could you be so reckless! Now who’s going to help you with your trailer and getting around and showering and…”  
  
Michael is giving him an amused look.  
  
“What?” Alex demands.  
  
“If only I had a husband who could help me out, in sickness and health.”  
  
Alex stares at the ground, wishing he didn’t feel like it was about to swallow him whole. “Even after all that crap I said at the drive-in?”  
  
“I know when it’s your Dad’s voice,” Michael promises. “You can tell me I’m wrong, but I don’t think I am. I think you still love me. I think you’re gonna find me a wheelchair and you’re gonna take me back to your place and we can commiserate about only having two good legs between us.”  
  
Alex tips his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed together.  
  
“All right, too soon,” Michael grumbles, but he’s swinging to the side of the bed, so clearly he’s not joking about getting out of here. “I’m not saying we’re gonna go find ourselves a white picket fence house and I know things are strained and shitty, but…” He trails off, reaching for Alex’s hand to slide it between his own, the scarring and the mangled skin on the bad hand on the bottom, still strong in its own ways. “There’s a reason I never wanted a divorce. I know we can do this.”  
  
“Please tell me you didn’t break your leg just so you could see me again,” Alex jokes.  
  
It’s Michael’s turn to glare at him. “Get me home,” he says. “And let’s work on figuring out what ‘for better’ looks like, because I don’t know about you, but aren’t you getting so tired of ‘for worse’?”  
  
Alex really, really is.   
  
“Fine,” he relents, and he knows that things are definitely far from perfect, but at least he can feel that hope back in him, with the potential to blossom into something stronger.  
  
*  
  
It’s 2019 and they’re out at the Wild Pony. Alex is at the bar to order their drinks and the rings have made it out of storage and back onto their hands. Alex’s bucket list has fewer items than it ever did before and while  _Make Peace With My Husband_  hadn’t been on there, Alex feels pretty comfortable in crossing it off.  
  
“Two beers for the asshole who got married and didn’t tell us,” Maria says, with the sweetness that’s really not hiding how annoyed she is.   
  
Alex takes them and salutes her with it, deciding to put something straight. “If that’s what you’re mad about, you’ve got three years to make up for.” Probably the wrong thing to say if he wants her to not be mad, but he heads back to the table and hands Michael his beer, all while Maria probably plots her revenge.  
  
“Everything good?” Michael asks, as Alex reaches in and slides their hands together, hearing the soft  _clink_  of their rings as he rests his hand on top of Michael’s, closing his eyes to let that settled feeling wash over him.  
  
He nods, and he knows down in his heart that he means this completely, “Yeah. Everything’s perfect.”


	14. vegas wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's headed to Vegas for the annual alien birthday bash and Michael and Alex decide to do something stupid (other than each other).

They’re turning thirty-one and it’s Michael’s turn to pick.  
  
“I hate this birthday,” Isobel says, staring as people in alien costumes mill past their group. For all that she and Max might not be twins, there’s dual horror on their faces as they stare at the convention center, though Liz and Kyle look vaguely amused. “Why does he always pick the worst birthdays?”  
  
“Is it better than the time he made us go stalk the air force training base to see if he could get a glimpse of Alex?” Max wonders.  
  
Alex leans forward to stare at Michael in horror from across their group. “When did that happen?”  
  
Michael dismisses it with a hand wave. “Not important,” he insists, grinning as he hands out lanyards. “Welcome to the UFO Convention,” he says, a manic look in his eyes. “Iz, don’t go in anyone’s head. Max,” he drawls, draping the lanyard over his neck, “try not to look like a resurrected alien so no one gets suspicious of you. Liz, please do find the one legit scientist buried in this place.” He hands a lanyard to Maria, gesturing to the ‘psychics amidst aliens’ booth, which clearly gets her excited, and Kyle follows after grabbing his lanyard from Michael and a look that says he’d better look out for her.  
  
“With a few exceptions, you have terrible taste,” Kyle says in parting.  
  
With that, they scatter until Alex is the only one left, pointing to the lanyard. “Don’t I get one?”  
  
Michael has a very special surprise for Alex, though. He drapes the lanyard over his neck and winds their hands together (he’ll never get over how his healed hand fits in Alex’s so easily, the way they could have held hands like this at seventeen and missed the chance). “I got us a very special surprise,” he says, leading Alex to where he’d coordinated to get one of the exhibits shut down for them.   
  
He ducks behind the curtain and leads Alex inside to where they’ve set up a projection of their galaxy on a dark ceiling, casting galaxies into their view.  
  
Waiting expectantly, he tries to calm his rapidly beating heart, running his tongue over his lower lip as he presses a hand to the small of Alex’s back to walk him right to the center of it. It’ll never compare to sitting in the desert and stargazing, but for where they are, it’s not so bad. Besides, maybe later, he’ll kidnap Alex and they’ll go out there for real.   
  
“This is incredible,” Alex breathes, staring up at it.  
  
Even though the view above them is cosmically gorgeous, Michael can’t take his eyes off Alex for a second. “Yeah,” he agrees. “You are.”  
  
Alex doesn’t bother to give him a glare, but his cheeks flush a little.   
  
”Let’s get out of here,” Alex insists, pushing at Michael. “Because I have a sneaking suspicion that we’re not supposed to be here.”  
  
Michael makes a face and he’s not sure why he ever bothers, because it’s not like Alex will ever believe it.   
  
”Fine, you win.” He leads them out and to the bar, where Alex insists on buying them the first round. They have plans to wait for the others, but one round turns into a second and then a third when everyone is off having their own fun. “Which one of them do you think is making out?” Alex asks, prodding at Michael’s shoulder. “Isobel and Maria? Or Max and Liz? Or…Kyle and…”  
  
Michael leans in for a kiss because if they’re talking about making out, then he wants it to be him and Alex. Besides, it’s his birthday and it’s his choice for how he wants to spend it.  
  
Sitting in a booth at the bar and making out with Alex is right up there on the top of his list. They haven’t really spent much time at all at the convention, which is fine by him. He’s not in the mood to argue with conspiracy theorists about why their spaceship designs are shitty and would never work.  
  
It’s much better to sit here and drink with Alex, rounds two and three making him feel invincible and so good. The fourth round is where things start to go off the rails, because all those light kisses are starting to get a touch more aggressive. There’s still hope to reel it back, but only if they stop drinking.  
  
They don’t, though.   
  
Fourth round turns into fifth and the romantic mood from earlier has transitioned into a touchy one, their hands all over one another. “Hey,” Alex exhales, tugging on Michael’s collar with both hands, yanking him in a few times. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey,” Michael laughs, giddy and drunk and a little wobbly.   
  
“Let’s do something stupid.”  
  
“I’m something stupid, you could do me.”  
  
Alex smacks his palm against Michael’s chest a few times. “Yeah. Yeah! Later,” he insists. “Let’s do something  _really_  stupid.” His eyes are as bright as the stars and he’s so excited, but for all the money in the world, Michael never would’ve counted on what happens next. “Let’s get married.”  
  
“Is that the tequila speaking, or can you please send Alex Manes back to speak to me, thank you,” Michael mumbles drunkenly, but it’s not the worst idea. Is it? Shit, he’s too drunk.  
  
“Alex Manes,” he replies, “and yeah, let’s get married. We’ve been dating for a year, but we’ve been together forever. Are you telling me you see a future where we don’t do this?”  
  
“You know I don’t have that power,” Michael mumbles, but he’s starting to come around to the idea.  
  
Alex is right. After everything they’ve gone through, neither of them is about to decide that they  _don’t_  want this, which means that it’s probably one of the smartest ideas he’s ever heard in his life.  
  
They drink round seven and get out of there to find the nearest chapel, where they do something extremely stupid, and then Alex makes Michael so proud, yanking him towards their newly upgraded honeymoon suite.  
  
”Now, what was that about me doing something stupid…?”  
  
Oh yeah, thinks Michael. Best birthday ever.   
  
*  
  
The next morning, they meet the rest of the group in the lobby of the hotel. Everyone is wearing sunglasses, which means that it’s a group hangover kind of day, though Michael already has a beer in hand and is heavily believing in the power of ‘hair of the dog’.   
  
Alex seems fairly put together even though Michael  _knows_  he’d been drinking shot for shot with him, but maybe he has some secret human stubborn powers when it comes to processing his alcohol.  
  
Whatever it is, it’s both charming and annoying.  
  
It’s not as annoying as Valenti yanking Michael’s good hand into his. “What the fuck,” he snaps. “You had a quickie Vegas wedding?” he demands, gaping at the ring. “Please tell me it wasn’t…”  
  
“Hey,” Alex interrupts, holding up an envelope as he returns to a group gaping at him. “They gave us the pictures from last night. Do you remember the giant green man standing up as our witness?”  
  
Yup. That’s about when all hell breaks loose and they descend on Alex for the pictures, leaving Michael alone with his smug grin, a wedding ring on his finger, and the knowledge that he had a wedding presided over by Elvis while two little green men from the convention witnessed it.  
  
Vegas, baby.


	15. daemon + soulmates au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Golden Compass, aliens have a daemon AU, but only settles when they meet their soulmate.

It’s been a point of contention since Isobel met Noah.  
  
“Settle,” she hisses at Cygnus, when he flickers from a hummingbird to a cat, giving Isobel an apologetic look, like he doesn’t want to be doing it, but Isobel’s strain is affecting her daemon.   
  
Noah’s daemon had been settled since before Isobel met him, but she talks about how they still feel connected, which she theorizes means they must have met before somehow. And yet, the trouble is, Cygnus still hasn’t settled in turn, which leaves Isobel constantly worrying that something is wrong with her marriage.  
  
Andromeda, Michael’s beagle, peers up at him from where she’s curled up in his arms, a sorrowful look on her face (not that she’s sad, but she’s a beagle and has been since Michael was in his teens, so he’s used to her looks) and nudges him to where Isobel is struggling to reason with Cygnus.  
  
They know what it means.   
  
With the humans, their daemons settle at a young age, but for their kind, it seems that their daemons won’t fully settle until they’ve met their soulmate. Michael’s been looking at Andromeda in this form for over half his life, though she also settled on his first day at Roswell Junior High, which means that anyone could’ve been his soulmate.  
  
He has his suspicions about who it is, though.  
  
After all, it’s not like anyone else lets their daemons cuddle in Michael’s lap the way Alex allows Michael to do with Juliet, his border collie daemon. No one else ever digs their fingers into Andromeda’s fur (no one else could), making Michael shiver with the sensations.  
  
For all that his daemon will snuggle up with Max and Isobel’s, Alex isn’t an alien like that, and it  _means_  something.  
  
“Can I ask you something?” Alex murmurs one night, when they’ve passed out on the couch in the bunker. They’ve been going over files again and their exhaustion has rendered them sleep-drunk and stupid – it’s the kind of stupid where Michael keeps thinking about pushing their boundaries from ‘just friends’ to ‘something more’ the way he’s been thinking about for ages.  
  
His fingers are in Andromeda’s fur on one side while Juliet snores in Michael’s lap.  
  
“Always,” Michael agrees, eyes half shut.  
  
“How come Isobel’s daemon hasn’t settled? She’s twenty-seven, it should have happened ages ago.”  
  
”Yeah, well, not for us,” Michael confesses. Alex already knows all his other secrets, what’s one more? “Max’s, she settled really early, you know? It was when he met Liz. I guess because they’re twined to our souls, the way it works for our species is that when you meet your soulmate, they pick their form and that’s it.”  
  
Alex sits up, gaping at Michael, for reasons Michael doesn’t get. He doesn’t say anything, which is weird, because it’s not like Michael just told Alex that their daemons have their own strange powers (they don’t). It’s new, sure, but it shouldn’t be that groundbreaking.  
  
Which means that Alex’s brain is moving a hundred miles a minute down a road Michael hasn’t seen yet.  
  
“What?” Michael asks warily.  
  
“Andromeda settled when I met you.”  
  
“She settled the first day of junior high, yeah.”  
  
“No,” Alex says, frantically. “She settled when you and I got assigned to work on that social studies project together on the first day of school and we introduced ourselves for the first time. Before that, she’d been a possum, then she was a beagle.” He doesn’t have to say it for Michael to know what comes next.  
  
She’d settled into her form and had never shifted again and it had been after he’d met Alex Manes. How can he not remember that? Maybe it’s because that whole day had been a blur of meeting new people, relief that he was back with Isobel and Max, and in retrospect, he’d decided that it could’ve been anyone.  
  
Glaring at Andromeda (who’s burrowed into Alex’s side), he’s not sure where he even wants to start. “You never told me!” he accuses his daemon.  
  
“You always knew,” she sleepily replies. “You just didn’t want to think about it because he was gone.”  
  
“Are they gonna kiss now?” Juliet whispers to Andromeda, her eyes shining with hope. “It’s been ages since they kissed,” is her complaint.   
  
Michael feels his face flush, his cheeks bright with it. All this time he’s been working at being Alex’s friend and trying to build the kind of strong relationship that can last and his daemon has been a sign under his nose that it’s going to work out if he puts in the work because Alex is his  _soulmate_.  
  
“Well?” Alex breaks the silence, a hopeful note in his voice. “You know I hate to disappoint Juliet and Andromeda.”  
  
“That’s the only reason you want me to kiss you?”  
  
Alex’s gaze falls to the ground, slowly sliding back up Michael’s body on the couch, sliding his fingers into Michael’s curls, his other hand tangled in Andromeda’s fur so that Michael is being touched outside and in. “I mean, I’d be pretty disappointed if you didn’t, too.”  
  
Michael can’t possibly have that, now can he?  
  
He closes the distance to kiss Alex with a relieved sob caught in the back of his throat, and he closes his eyes to hide the relief and the amusement when he hears Juliet and Andromeda having their own little celebrations nearby.   
  
“God, they’re annoying,” Michael complains when they separate, his eyes still closed, but he knows there’s a blissful look on his face. Without expecting it, but glad for it, Alex closes the distance to kiss him again.  
  
“You wouldn’t trade them for anything.”  
  
“Not them, and not you,” Michael agrees, and settles in with Alex on top of him, unwilling to let him go now that his soul has fully settled and he’s aware of it.


	16. recovering memories w/ antidote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael takes antidotes and he starts having fresh back about the memories before they landed on earth.

“Liz, I need them,” he begs for the tenth time. It’s an old argument by now. Every week, he turns up at the lab and begs Liz to give him a batch of the antidote for his personal consumption, but she keeps refusing.  
  
”No,” is her stubborn answer. “No, it’s still untested and who knows what it might do to your system. Tell me why you need it and I will possibly begin to  _consider_  it.”   
  
Of course she won’t do it unless he tells her  _why_ , and as much as it feels like pulling teeth, the memories are more important to him than stubbornly refusing to open up to Liz.  
  
“They helped Isobel fill in the patches in her brain,” he says and as much as he doesn’t like to think about the pain of Caulfield, he knows he needs this to get past it, “I want to see if I can bring anything back from before the pods.”  
  
 _He just wants to see his Mom again_.  
  
He doesn’t say that part and Liz doesn’t ask, so Michael’s been allowed to keep at least some of his secrets.  
  
It takes her a few weeks, but eventually she meets him at the Crashdown and presses five vials into his palm. “I’m not making you anymore because I have an actual job I need to be doing,” she warns. “And you definitely aren’t paying me for this, so make them last.” She grabs his hand before he can pull it away, a pointed look on her face. “The minute you feel that something’s wrong, you need to call me. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you when you do this?” Liz asks.  
  
Michael shakes his head, squeezing his hand around the vial. “No,” he says, because he knows exactly where he needs to go for this. “I’ll call you if something goes wrong. You know, all these rules kind of take the fun out of the science,” he quips.  
  
Liz doesn’t look so impressed. “Yeah,” she deadpans. “Me trying to keep you from dying is a real buzzkill.” 

Okay, fine, she may have a point.  
  
“I’ll call if something goes wrong,” he guarantees. “And,” he adds, breathing out slowly, “I won’t do it alone.”  
  
Liz seems willing to take that promise, because she lets him go.  
  
That means that Michael has to face the music and actually go to the one person he trusts to be with him in case any of those old memories do come back or, worst case scenario, they come back and trigger a bad reaction.   
  
As awkward as things have been the past few months, he, Alex and Maria have all managed to get back on even, platonic ground. It had been one hell of a conversation at the diner when they’d all decided that the best thing would be if none of them slept together, if they all took some space, and after a few months, then they could revisit things, if things were to be revisited.  
  
Well, it’s been a few months and Michael’s been too much of a coward to go after anyone – not to mention, his focus has been on getting the antidote.  
  
Besides, this isn’t about him choosing a bed to warm himself in. This is about his past, and there’s one person who knows all of it, especially the reason why he needs to take this antidote so desperately.  
  
Alex opens the cabin door, surprised to see him. “Guerin,” he says, blinking rapidly at him. “Did you text me that you were coming over?”  
  
“No,” he admits, but he holds up one of the vials. “I was hoping maybe you’d make sure I don’t end up accidentally killing myself trying to get back memories of my mother and my life before the crash landing.”  
  
Alex gapes at him, mouth open, but he steps back from the door and gestures inside. Michael paces around for a while, feeling anxious about what he’s here to ask for. It might be unfair, turning up like this when he’s not actually here to settle the other issues, but he has to hope Alex will understand.  
  
“This is going to sound crazy,” he starts.  
  
Alex crosses his arms over his chest, staring at him with subdued amusement. “Crazier than you being an alien?”  
  
He opens his palms and shows off the little glass vials. “Liz’s antidote, for her serum,” he explains. “When Iz took it, she got all her memories back about what happened with Rosa. I’ve been begging Liz for ages to give me some and she did.”  
  
Whatever hesitation has been on Alex’s face melts away when he figures out what Michael wants with them. “You want to know about your life before the pod.”  
  
He nods, feeling raw for the confession, even though Alex is the one person who understands better than anyone why he’s chasing them.   
  
“Okay,” Alex says. “What do I need to do?”  
  
They set up an area on the carpet of the main area, blankets around them, water and acetone at the ready, though he doesn’t have any in his system. He’d worked with Liz on the antidote enough to know the rough dosage that would put him over the edge, so he sticks with half a vial to start, making sure that his body is free and clear of acetone to avoid any chemical overlap that might render the antidote useless.  
  
Alex stares down at where Michael is laying in his lap. “You’re sure about this?”  
  
“I need to try,” he pleads. “What’s the worst case scenario?”  
  
“You  _die_ ,” Alex points out sharply.   
  
Right, yeah, why is everyone reminding him about that? He knows he could die, he gets it, but why doesn’t anyone see how important this is to him? “That’s why I’m here,” he argues. “You’re gonna make sure I don’t die.”   
  
He drinks down the vial before Alex can try and stop him, closing his eyes so that he can wait for a memory to come in. With Isobel, she’d told him that she’d needed a trigger for the memories to come flooding back. He lies there with his head in Alex’s lap, eyes closed, waiting, but nothing happens.  
  
“You still okay?” Alex asks, but Michael reaches for the other half of the vial and drinks it against Alex’s noises of protest. “Guerin!”  
  
“I have to,” he pleads. “Alex, I have to, I need to remember more, I need to know who loved me before, I need to see her again.”  
  
“All right, maybe,” Alex suffers it with a sigh, “but just remember, I love you now.”  
  
The echo of his words from Caulfield trigger a chain reaction in his mind. Michael gasps as he sits up, bolting upright like he’s been shocked as he’s thrown back into places he doesn’t recognize, people he’s never seen before, and his  _mother_.  
  
“ _We’re going on an adventure, sweetheart. You’ll go to sleep and when you wake up, I’ll be there and we’ll start again.”  
_  
He remembers war, he remembers blood and fear, his mother holding him protectively tight while adults around him argue about where they’re going to go, what they’re going to do.  
  
“ _We’re going to be together,” his mother had insisted sharply. “Isn’t that worth the risk? Isn’t that worth whatever might happen to give our children a chance at a future?”_  
  
Gasping, Michael comes back to reality when those memories fade away. Alex’s hand is on his shoulder, gripping him tight, hauling him into his arms. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay.” He keeps hushing Michael, who’s panting wildly, and he thinks he might have been crying, because his cheeks are wet.   
  
He’s not so sure that this will be the last of the memories, but it’s more than he’s had before. He also has four vials left, which means that they don’t have to be the only memories.  
  
“Did you see her?”  
  
Michael nods desperately.   
  
“Did she say anything this time?”  
  
Again, Michael nods, thinking about her words. “She just wanted to give us a chance at a better future. We didn’t even get that. So, she suffered all those years and what, for nothing? So I could have a shitty childhood and a hopeless future?”  
  
“Hey,” Alex cuts him off before he can keep winding down that spiraled path. “I don’t know if you’ve looked in a mirror recently, but you’re not even thirty. That’s a whole lot of future ahead of you.”   
  
Michael inhales sharply and he’s not so sure that he believes that everything’s not ruined (he still dreams of ash and smoke and char and grief), but Alex isn’t wrong. He lets himself stay in Alex’s arms, lets Alex soothe him a while longer, and only stands when he knows if he doesn’t move soon, he’s going to do something he’ll regret.  
  
Not because it’s Alex, but because the last time he made a decision tangled up in the grief of losing his mother, it hadn’t gone over so well.  
  
He’s not ready to close the door on this, though.   
  
“I have four more vials,” Michael says, when he lingers by the door. “Could I…?”  
  
The silence as he trailed off after the question stretches, but it isn’t awkward. Michael lets it wash over him as Alex seems to think about it.   
  
“Anytime,” he says, and gives Michael an encouraging look that’s filled with hope and promise.  
  
Maybe, if he figures things out, maybe he can even figure out how his future starts inside these walls, too.


	17. jesse wakes up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Air Force finds out what Sgt. Manes has been up to and aren't pleased.

Six weeks after Kyle injects his dad with barbiturates, Jesse Manes comes around from his coma. Alex makes sure that he’s there, because he wants to see the look on his father’s face when he sees the MPs standing there flanking him while Alex sends off a few emails.  
  
“You’re awake,” he says, feigning a bored tone even if his heart is pounding wildly. “Good.”  
  
“Alex?” Jesse’s drugged still, clearly out of it, but Alex refuses to look at him. He’s not going to let Jesse manipulate him anymore.   
  
He’s had six weeks to put an airtight case together. He has the scrubbed footage that Kyle had escaped with from Caulfield, he has decades of papers that delve into diverting government funds into his project, bribing officials, and an intent to commit genocide against an unknown race.  
  
He could’ve added in ‘assault against minors’, but that one felt personal and he’s trying to keep Michael out of this for now.   
  
”Hi, Dad,” Alex says calmly, stepping aside to allow the inevitable to take its course.  
  
“Jesse Manes, you’re under arrest.”  
  
Alex swears he’s never heard sweeter words.   
  
He’d insisted that he be here for when they haul him away, even if his commanding officers had questioned his need to see his own father being carted off, but he’d made Michael stay back until he could safely make sure that Jesse Manes was behind bars and the smart bomb wouldn’t go off. He needs to be sure that Jesse won’t be a problem in their lives.  
  
Hands behind his back, defeated, Jesse slides a disappointed look over Alex. “You’re making a mistake.”  
  
“I’m choosing a side,” Alex counters.  
  
“They’re a violent race, Alex. You’re making the wrong choice, they’re incapable of love,” he spits out.   
  
Alex shakes his head, because if there’s one truth that he’ll always know and hold true, it’s that his father is wrong. “No,” he says, and there isn’t a shred of doubt. “They’re capable of more love than you’ve ever shown me. Unprovoked violence is something you’re an expert on, but  _they_ ,” he says sharply, cautious not to use Michael’s name, “came here in peace. We’re the villains who pulled the trigger.”  
  
”It’s because of him,” Jesse spits as he’s put in cuffs, his rights being read to him. “You’ll regret this!”  
  
Alex watches his father go, the double doors shutting behind him with a heavy clang. He stands there as he’s debriefed by the MPs, is given an expected timeline of when the evidence will be reviewed, and then he’s there in the hospital alone.   
  
Not alone, not really.   
  
”Hey,” Kyle says, sneaking up on him. “You okay? I could’ve kept him in the coma, you know. I actually think I might’ve liked that.”  
  
Alex shakes his head, because as tempting as it might be to let his problems stay unconscious, this is better. This has the potential for consequences not only for his father, but his brothers and every other person who hurt Michael and his family for the last seven decades.  
  
”I think we need to get a beer to celebrate,” Alex says, feeling weird saying that, but right.  
  
He needs to celebrate because his father is going away, Alex has successfully kept himself, Kyle, and Michael out of the crosshairs, and maybe he’s celebrating something his father had said.  
  
Because it’s true.   
  
He chose Michael. He’s just getting used to what it’s like to choose him and not run away, but it feels good. It feels like the kind of thing that deserves that celebration beer, along with the relief that tonight he’ll fall asleep knowing that Jesse Manes can’t hurt him.  
  
That relief is worth twenty-seven years’ worth of beer, but Alex will start with the one and work from there.   
  
*  
  
When he gets a text that his father has been found guilty and is being sent to prison, Alex expects to feel relief. He expects the last ten years of pain to melt away and leave only the good, but it doesn’t. He feels alone. Victorious, but alone.   
  
He slides away the notification and stares at his contacts for ten minutes before he gets up the courage to text Michael.  
  
 _Are you okay? My Dad’s gone, I need to know you’re okay._  
  
It’s not what he should be texting. His father just went to prison, orchestrated by Alex’s hand himself, and he’s asking if Michael is okay. It’s better than what they’ve been doing, late night moments where they crash into bed together, because deep down, they always collide.  
  
The text must be ominous, because Michael calls ten minutes later.  
  
“Alex, what the hell?”  
  
“My dad got sentenced today,” Alex says, his voice sounding deceptively calm given the enormity of that news. “Twenty years. Pretty light, if you ask me, but that means he’s not going to be around. Twenty years in a secure military prison.”  
  
“He should’ve gotten seventy,” Michael spits out.  
  
If there were karmic justice, then yeah, Jesse Manes would have and he would’ve been someone’s lab rat for all of them.   
  
“Come over,” Alex says. Pleads, maybe. He’s been keeping Michael at arm’s length for so long until this is over and he’s not sure he entirely has a right to ask this of Michael, even though he’s not sure that he’s asking him to come over for anything more than his company.  
  
It’s just that ‘company’ usually turns into something else entirely.  
  
There’s a knock on his cabin door that jolts him from his thoughts and he opens it to find Michael on his doorstep. “I’ve been waiting for you to call me since you sent him away,” he admits hoarsely. “That text, today, I started driving here, because I’m tired of waiting for that Jesse Manes shaped elephant in the room to go to jail.”  
  
He pushes a hand on Alex’s chest, grabbing his phone and hanging up the call, wrapping an arm around Alex’s waist so he doesn’t go stumbling when his legs hit the couch.   
  
“I chose you,” Alex breathes, as he collapses back onto the seat. “Jesse wants everyone to think that you’re not capable of love, but I know better. I know, because I know that you loved me.”  
  
“Close,” Michael says, sinking down into a straddle.   
  
Alex’s brow furrows worriedly, his stomach churning with an uncertain flare he hadn’t counted on. “Michael?”  
  
“That I love you,” he corrects. “C’mon, Alex, you gotta get it right if you’re gonna shove it in your Dad’s face when I show up at the trial with you,” he teases in barely more than a whisper.  
  
Hands holding tight to Michael’s waist, Alex pulls him down and spends the next few hours showing him how  _incredible_  of an idea that is, along with showing how much he loves Michael right back, using his words, his body, and all of his heart.


	18. mylex - the bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Alex make a bet on who can make Kyle smile the most in three days without Kyle noticing something is up.

“I’m at two points,” Michael boasts when he settles into a booth at the Wild Pony, shoving his phone across the table so Alex can see the proof.   
  
There, in a picture, is Kyle genuinely smiling because Michael had made a joke about Max Evans that more or less implied that Liz had to keep going back to him so often because she’s in the process of looking for his dick. Crude? Yes. Effective? Oh, yes.   
  
Alex scowls and Michael can’t help but feel like this is going to be his victory. “It’s two to one, now,” Michael can’t help tempting fate by pointing out.  
  
“Yeah, and we have two more days in the bet,” Alex counters, sipping his drink as he raises his eyebrow in that way that implies that he has something terrifyingly efficient and dastardly up his sleeve.   
  
This all started last week on the anniversary of Jim Valenti’s death. Even though Jesse has been dealt with and all of that should be firmly in the past, Kyle still has a habit of getting mopey and depressed. Last year, the first year all three of them had been together as a couple and not just friends, they’d bunkered down in bed in a giant pile of bodies to try and lift Kyle’s spirits.  
  
This year, they have a better plan – in three days, Alex and Michael need to earn as many documented smiles as they can out of Kyle. The winner gets rewarded winsomely for his efforts. It’s a good plan not just because it keeps Kyle distracted, but also because it’s brought out the competitive streak in both Michael and Alex.   
  
”Bring it on,” Michael encourages, leaning over to kiss Alex on the corner of the lips before he’s off his stool.   
  
Alex watches him go, confused. “Where are you going?” he demands.   
  
”It’s war, babe,” Michael shouts at him from the door. “Can’t have you getting ideas from trying them out on me. I’ll see you in two days when I win the bet!”   
  
”We’ll see about that.” Alex shouts back at him, but it’s too late. Michael’s already out the door.   
  
*  
  
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Kyle asks suspiciously when Alex turns up at the hospital with a tray of coffees, wearing his old leather jacket, and sitting at the nurse’s station. He can’t help his fond smile as he leans forward to take the coffee that’s marked as ‘Dr. Hot Stuff’ from Alex, eyes landing on the second coffee (which is Alex’s, right there in the tray).   
  
Alex gives Kyle that too-sweet smile, the one he has when he’s plotting something. “I can’t come bring my boyfriend a coffee?”  
  
“Is Guerin hiding somewhere? Am I going to get tackled while I’m distracted?”   
  
He’s still smiling, though,   
  
Alex doesn’t worry about grabbing a picture at the moment, because he’ll just get into the security cameras and pick one up later. “I had the morning off and I wanted to see you,” Alex replies calmly.  
  
The one big rule about the bet is that Kyle isn’t supposed to find out. If Kyle finds out, that’s an automatic forfeit on the part of whoever leaked the contest and Alex has no intention of losing like that.  
  
He has no intention of losing at all.  
  
”I thought we could have a coffee break together,” Alex says, rubbing his thumb over the curve of the cup. “I missed you.”  
  
”I saw you this morning,” Kyle replies, sipping his drink. “Remember? Once I dislodged Guerin from aggressively little spooning into me, which…I still don’t get how he does it. Is it alien glue?” he whispers, voice low. “Because I swear, no one should have that much power from that position.”  
  
”I still missed you,” is Alex’s calculated and soft response, his eyes fixed on Kyle’s mouth. “Come on. Let’s go sit outside,” he says, reaching over to tangle his fingers into Kyle’s, gently tugging him outside with a slow walk. “Don’t make me beg.”  
  
”And yet, that sounds really tempting…”  
  
Alex grins at him and earns another smile back. By the time the little mini-date is over, he’s managed to get three clear smiles out of Kyle that he can document, which officially puts their score at four to two, for him. It’s a decent lead, but it’s also one that he knows Michael won’t let stand for very long.   
  
*  
  
He’s right about that, obviously.   
  
Michael lets out a pleased huff as he zips his jeans back up, getting back to his feet in the supply closet. After Alex had shown him the yields of a coffee date, he’d marched right down to the hospital the next night during Kyle’s night shift and got right down to it.   
  
Kyle, dazed, has his eyes closed and still has one hand wrapped around the shelving poles, grinning with a blissful smile, doesn’t even notice the click of the camera. , but is probably just Guerin putting his belt back on.   
  
“Okay,” Kyle mumbles. “Yeah, you’re right. That was way better than getting coffee on my break.”  
  
“I’m always right,” Michael says, leaning in to kiss Kyle on the lips. “See you later, doc.”  
  
Sure, that’s only worth the one point, but when he returns in the morning with a greasy and full breakfast from the Crashdown (before Alex has even woken up for the day), his night owl tendencies have evened up the score.  
  
*  
  
“Okay,” says Kyle when he comes across Michael and Alex as thick as thieves together in the bunker, leaning together and bickering over some notebook, “what the hell is going on with you two? I mean, I’m not complaining about all the dates and the gifts and the sex, but it’s  _weird_.”  
  
It’s been nearly three days of really odd behavior from his two boyfriends and he’s not so unobservant that he hasn’t tracked the pattern, he just hasn’t known what to make of it. He’s also not sure he’s so upset, because it’s been a damn good distraction from the anniversary of his dad’s death, which…  
  
Oh.  
  
Well, now Kyle is beginning to understand part of this.   
  
Michael at least tries to look innocent, but Alex shrugs like he’s not about to feel bad about whatever this insanity is.  
  
“We’re tied,” Michael says, which is clearly directed at Alex, because what the fuck? “We could always say we both won.” From the look on Alex’s face, he’s not really happy about losing the bet, which makes sense. That competitive need to win might differ from Jesse Manes’ style of needing to win, but it’s still there.  
  
“Won what?”  
  
“Loser was in the middle of the DP sandwich,” Michael shares, his eyes flicking over Kyle like he plans to end this insanity. “Let’s settle it right now, the bet’s only got six hours left on the clock anyway. Hey Valenti, smile for you, would you?”  
  
He glares at him, arms crossed over his chest.   
  
“Kyle?” Alex says, calm and seductive and sweet. “Smile for  _me_  and we both get to fuck Michael, together.”  
  
He very deliberately turns to Alex and smiles warmly at him.  
  
“Fuck me,” Michael hisses out.  
  
“Yeah, babe, that’s the plan,” Alex agrees with the gleeful and wicked smirk of a poor winner.  
  
Sure, they’re both going to have to deal with Alex being smug about winning this little bet, but with plans to work together to fuck Michael until he’s begging and practically melting into the bed, Kyle’s willing to put up with that frustration. He’s still smiling and if he’s honest, it’s the happiest he’s been in a long while, so if this is a distraction, then it definitely worked.   
  
*  
  
“Okay,” Kyle pleads, later, when they’re curled up together in bed and Alex is preening victoriously about being the winner of the bet (and Michael has collapsed, protesting that his aching ass means he can’t move). “What the hell was that about?”  
  
“Whoever got you to smile more in three days won,” Michael mumbles, the words absorbed by the pillow that his face is shoved in. “We wanted to distract you from the time of year.”  
  
Kyle turns his mind to the last few days and presses his laughter into Alex’s shoulder, because Michael is doing his usual nightly routine of falling asleep wrapped around their boyfriend pillow before he ends up yanking one or both of his actual boyfriends to curl up around him.   
  
”That explains so much.”  
  
It also reveals their techniques in a telling way that Kyle’s pretty amused by. Alex had gone straight for strategic wooing, charm, and compliments. Michael hadn’t bothered with subterfuge and had been direct.  
  
Clearly, Kyle’s a sucker for both methods.   
  
In the morning, Kyle can’t  _stop_  smiling, so he’s pretty sure that this little bet of has done exactly its intended purpose and really? He’s not mad, not by a long shot. He might not say ‘thank you’ directly to their faces, but he makes breakfast the next morning and takes his time kissing each of his boyfriends’ good morning.   
  
He doesn’t say it enough, not really, but he knows how much he’s lucked out to have this and times like this throw that into stark relief.   
  
“Next time,” Kyle says, while they’re eating, “I pick the bet.”  
  
“It’s all yours,” Michael allows, absently eating as he scribbles notes, Alex nodding as he stares blearily into his coffee, not yet a person.  
  
*  
  
It’s why, three months later, he and Alex are head to head in a new competition on the anniversary of Caulfield’s destruction. “Two to one,” Kyle says with a smug smirk. “He used his powers when we were making out in the car.”   
  
Alex, calm as ever, sips his drink like he hasn’t got a care in the world.  
  
“There’s still two days left,” he says.  
  
He’s not wrong, which is why Kyle intends to get moving.  
  
He has a bet to win.


	19. soulmate danger metres

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have a meter on how dangerous their soulmate is or how in danger their soulmate is in.

He’s had the mark on his wrist since he came out of the pod – they all have. It’s three circles that seem to ebb and flow, but in the middle there’s a fourth. Through his life, those symbols change their colors, though never their shape, and it’s on their thirteenth birthday when they figure it out.  
  
“The humans have these,” Isobel shares. “I saw it at one of the boy-girl parties, they’re soulmate marks, but theirs are different,” she says, holding hers out. “They only have one, not four.”  
  
It’s that night, when the drifter steals Isobel, that they realize why they’re different. When the drifter grabs Isobel, one of the circles starts to glow a fervent red, burning their skin angrily. After they deal with the drifter and bury his body, they huddle together, protecting each other, and beginning to understand the marks a little more.  
  
As they get older, they learn more about it from the humans.  
  
“They’re soulmarks,” the kids in class explain. “The person closest to your soul is tied to it and when they’re in danger, it changes.”   
  
“It’s a defense system,” explain their teachers, “and a way to help you save those you truly care about when they’re in trouble, the ones you’re linked to in your soul.”  
  
Max, Isobel, and Michael take to wearing long-sleeved shirts as often as they can until Isobel buys them high-grade concealer, but even that doesn’t work when one of them starts to panic or gets in a tough situation (usually Michael, because his foster situation always puts him in danger). Even then, beneath the makeup, the marks glow bright.   
  
They use them as much as they need to. In the middle of his foster parents taking their anger out on them, the phone will ring or there’ll be a knock on the door and one of the Evans will be there (usually Max or Isobel, but sometimes their parents). It’s enough to protect him.  
  
It’s a way for them to look out for one another.  
  
The only mystery that’s left is that odd fourth mark.  
  
“What does the fourth one mean?” Max is the first one to bring it up. “Ours never go off at the same time,” he says, because Michael’s has started to go off more frequently than the others, like an alarm he needs to stop ignoring. He knows that it means someone is in trouble, but it’s not Isobel and it’s not Max, because often it flares when they’re all together. “Is it some kind of family member we don’t know about?”  
  
It belongs to someone else, but Michael has no idea  _who_.  
  
“Maybe it’s our actual soulmate,” Isobel raises the prospect, and it seems sensible enough. The humans only have one, maybe they’ve gone one on them that attaches them to whoever their alien soulmate is meant to be, along with the family they hold tightest to.   
  
If Michael’s soulmate is the fourth mark on his skin, then whoever he’s meant to be with gets hurt nearly as much as he does and it breaks Michael up inside not knowing who it is.   
  
He wants to be able to help, he wants to be able to do something, but short of harming people in his vicinity and looking at his mark, it’s going to remain a mystery. Besides, once he hits junior year and starts developing a head-over-heels, draw-our-names-in-hearts crush on Alex Manes, he stops thinking that it matters so much who the mark belongs to.  
  
Really, though, he never had anything to worry about.  
  
It only hits when Jesse comes down with the hammer. The circle that belongs to him flashes angrily, but so does the fourth, the one that belongs to his soulmate. At the same time, the mark on Alex’s neck flares furiously red with pain.   
  
 _Oh_ , he thinks.  
  
And then he realizes how unsurprising this actually is, how happy he is, but how much pain is distracting him from this epiphany.   
  
Even though his life turns brutally terrible that night when he covers for three murders, he learns just how much worse it gets.   
  
One month later, Alex finds him in his truck and Michael realizes that this is the bottom of the pit he’s been falling down.  
  
They’ve been sneaking around the last month and Michael had actually thought that maybe they’d run away together. Those hopes are dashed when he sees the duffel in Alex’s hands. It’s camouflaged-color, and until today, Michael hadn’t realized that “fuck you’ could be so vivid a color in drab army greens.  
  
His stomach sinks and he stares at Alex in pain and horror.   
  
“I signed up,” Alex says. “I came to say goodbye, because you…”  
  
“Stop,” Michael says sharply. “I’m not everyone else,” he says, and he gets right up in Alex’s personal space, pressing his hand over the mark on Alex’s neck,  _his_  mark. “Don’t bullshit me like you’d bullshit Valenti or Liz or Maria. You’re running away and you want my permission.”  
  
Michael scoffs and shakes his head.   
  
“You’re not gonna get it,” he says, the words biting and harsh.  
  
“Michael,” Alex pleads.  
  
“You wanna go follow in the Manes family footsteps, you do that, but I’m not going to pretend I’m okay with it. Go,” he snaps at him. “Leave, if you’re so desperate to get out of here, if you want to leave me. Just  _go_ ,” he snaps.  
  
He knows he’s the one shouting at Alex to do it, but when he leaves, it’s like he’s taken something inside of Michael and snapped it in half.   
  
When Alex walks away, Michael watches the mark on Alex’s neck broadcast his pain for him. He wonders how Alex can keep walking, but he knows that he’s shutting his eyes to avoid seeing the pain flare up in vivid color on his own skin. Michael watches him go and thinks it’s the worst pain he’ll ever be in.  
  
He’s wrong, though.  
  
Almost ten years later, he’s working on the dairy ranch when Alex’s mark goes blinding hot white, so painful that Michael passes out long enough for Foster to suggest the hospital. “No,” Michael snaps, and drags himself to Isobel’s, where she calls Max and he drinks his way through three bottles of acetone.  
  
“Michael, whatever happened  _branded_  your arm,” Isobel says, holding his forearm and staring at it.   
  
“I don’t care, heal it,” he snaps. He knows the danger that Alex must be in, he knows he must be skirting the edge of death, and when he falls asleep sobbing with a bottle of acetone clutched in his arms, he’s so glad when the mark keeps pulsating with color, because though Alex is in pain, he’s alive.  
  
He’s alive. That means that Michael can have the second chance he’s not so sure he deserves.  
  
Alex comes back into town, distressed and despondent atop a parade float, and Michael lingers in the crowd until he knows he can get him alone. He knows that he’d been in more pain than he’d ever been in his life, and Michael had felt it acutely in a way he never had before.  
  
He follows him, not sure how to approach him, and it turns into Michael stalking Alex around town like an idiot as he tries to figure out what to do or say.  
  
It turns out that Alex is the one who comes up with the right words, the night of the reunion when Michael finally bridges the gap between them, intending to offer out that olive branch and talk.   
  
“What I want doesn’t matter,” Alex says.   
  
“Maybe not,” Michael counters, drifting inside. “What I do, does.”  
  
Alex’s gaze flickers down to Michael’s lips, then back up to his eyes. “And what do you want?” he asks him, his voice soft, like he’s trying to keep this a secret between the both of them, even now.   
  
“I want for my mark to never flare like that again,” Michael says firmly. “I want to never know what color it goes when you’re in life-threatening pain. I want to protect you, keep you safe, I want…”  
  
“Please tell me somewhere in this list, you want to kiss me comes up?”  
  
Michael drifts right into Alex’s personal space and grabs his face with both hands, his pinky rubbing back and forth over his mark on Alex’s neck as he kisses him, swallowing up every last desperate moan of Alex’s, the two of them fighting to prove which one missed the other more.   
  
It turns out that Michael’s pretty stubborn when it comes to what he wants.  
  
He’s also very pleased to say that apart from the low-grade pains that come from a man losing his leg, he gets to keep his promise, and makes sure that the mark on his arm that belongs to Alex stays steady, true, and  _safe_.   
  
From now until the end, Michael’s job is to make sure the people he loves stays safe and the marks on his arm stay boring. It might not be the best job in the world, but for Michael, it’s worth every moment.


	20. professor guerin & captain manes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Guerin always looks forward to the one bright spot in his class - former airman Alex Manes.

“Dr. Guerin, do you have a minute?”  
  
Michael is in the middle of grading a pile of papers and he’s regretting agreeing to take on Introduction to Engineering Materials of the Future, because in his entire class, there’s only about three promising students who are going to make it.  
  
He glances up in the middle of marking up another paper in red to find one of those three students standing there.  _Student_  of course, being an accurate word, but definitely not one of the young ones that make him wonder daily why he signed up for this willingly.  “Captain Manes,” he says, shoulders practically sagging with relief to be handed a reprieve. “Please. Rescue me.”  
  
“That bad?”  
  
Michael doesn’t say that he’s debating firing up his spaceship and leaving the planet, but he’s definitely had a few of those thoughts in recent days.  
  
Being an alien who’s come to earth to hold down a job and learn about their science and their culture had sounded like a good mission when Max had offered it to him. Now, he’s debating how many of the papers he’s had to grade he’ll need to make a giant origami middle finger that he can fly home to Antar.  
  
“This paper is trying to convince me of the merits of jell-o,” he deadpans, which isn’t exactly promising.   
  
As happy as he is for the distraction (both because Alex is one of his smartest students, but also he’s easy on the eyes and basically his age), he doesn’t know  _why_  he’s there.  
  
“Are you here for office hours? Your last paper was excellent, same as your test scores,” Michael says suspiciously.  
  
“Do you not want me here?”  
  
The opposite, actually, but honestly, he’s been trying to ignore that flare of want within him. For one, Alex is a human. He’s also one a student, which isn’t so much of a problem because he’d enrolled after three tours, so he’s older, but he’s Michael’s student.  
  
“No,” Michael hurries to answer when he realizes he hasn’t. “No, I’m surprised, that’s all.”  
  
“I actually do want your help, but not with this class. I know I need to take the pre-reqs first, but I’ve been consulting on a project with the Air Force and I could use your help taking a look at the aerodynamics of the wings, if you’re feeling up to it?”  
  
Michael shouldn’t.  
  
He really shouldn’t. For one, it’s probably in poor taste to help a student with another professor’s class. It’s an even worse idea when the student you want to help is also a student you have a crush on. They’re about the same age, he knows, if for a few months difference, but he’s still Michael’s  _student_ until the semester ends and Alex heads off for his degree.  
  
Yet, here he is, nodding. “Sure, why not.”  
  
He ignores the pile of papers he needs to grade and spends the next few hours leaning over Alex’s shoulder to look at his work, rapidly tapping the paper as he offers his opinion, and drifting in to check his work to the point that he’s so close he can smell Alex’s body wash.  
  
Michael exhales a hitched, stuttered breath, and forces himself to pull back before he gets in trouble.  
  
Alex seems to be having similar thoughts. “I should probably…”  
  
“Yeah,” Michael agrees hoarsely. “Yeah, I still need to finish grading,” he says, watching Alex stand and collect his books. He’s hovering close to Alex as he escorts him out, but before Alex leaves, he turns and presses his back up against the closed door to Michael’s office.  
  
Student, he reminds himself. Alex Manes may be a Captain in the Air Force, an adult, and the tastiest snack he’s seen in these halls in years, but he’s still a student.  
  
”Thank you,” he says, voice husky. He wets his lower lip as his gaze slides to Michael’s mouth.  
  
Maybe kissing the hell out of Alex isn’t the right way to say ‘you’re welcome’, but it is the choice that Michael makes, as ill-advised as it might be. He backs him right up against the door, crowding his space as he tangles his hands in Alex’s hair, kissing him like he doesn’t plan to breathe again, like his only plan is to kiss Alex.  
  
At least, that’s his plan until he hears a textbook thump to the ground, falling out of Alex’s bag.  
  
Shit.   
  
“We can’t,” Michael croaks out, the sense to say that taking every single ounce of his self-restraint. “If anyone finds out, we’d get in trouble, you could lose your scholarship, I could lose my job…” It’s telling how good the kiss had been, because Michael’s hands are still fumbling and holding tight to Alex’s shirt.   
  
Still, the regret is clear in the way Alex’s lips curve downwards in the beginnings of a beautiful frown. “I know.”  
  
Michael finally manages to let go, a soft sound torn from him when he does.  
  
“Good luck on your project,” he offers, reaching to the side of Alex to open the door, using the threat of someone seeing as a preventative measure before they do anything else really stupid.  
  
Alex bends to pick up his textbook, sliding it into his bag. “With the help you gave me, I don’t need luck. It’ll be amazing.”   
  
Then he’s gone and Michael can breathe again.  
  
_Holy shit_ , he thinks.  _What did he just nearly do?_  
  
He didn’t, though. He’s not going to get fired and though he doubts he’ll ever sleep soundly again until he gets to kiss Alex Manes again, his job is safe, and he didn’t do something very, very stupid. It’s a shame his genius brain is currently lamenting that fact.  
  
*  
  
It’s a few weeks later, when midterms have been graded and returned to the students that he bumps into Alex again at a coffee shop. When his eyes slide over him, all he remembers is what it’d felt like to kiss Alex against his office door. Still, he marches right inside and tells himself that he’s a mature adult alien-human-something.   
  
He can do this.   
  
“Dr. Guerin,” Alex greets him. “It’s nice to see you again.”  
  
“Yes, it is,” Michael agrees, feeling like the awkwardness of this conversation might actually kill him. He’s tapping his fingers rapidly on the counter as his eyes slide over Alex, looking at the leather jacket he’s wearing that fits him like a glove. “How’d your project go?”  
  
“A+,” Alex brags. “Thanks to you,” he adds, stepping towards Michael like he’s about to do something to thank him.   
  
Michael’s heart starts to pound in his chest and as much as he knows he shouldn’t encourage this, he wants it. He hasn’t wanted anyone for years, not since he and his last girlfriend broke up because their interests and lives went in separate directions, not to mention cities.   
  
Considering how Michael had shown his appreciation for Alex’s gratitude last time, he can only imagine what’s going to happen.  
  
”Let me pay for your coffee,” Alex says, throwing him off his expectation, “in thanks.”  
  
Michael exhales the breath he’s been holding in, beaming as he nods. “Yeah, that’d be…”  
  
”And then we can take a walk while you drink it?”  
  
There’s that other shoe.   
  
The thing is, Michael really likes spending time with Alex, so even though he’s going to have to fight not to reach over and touch Alex, even casually, he’s not about to say no. He takes the piping hot coffee without a sleeve and cups his palms around it, like the pain will be a deterrent. “Yeah. Let’s go.”  
  
They walk in silence for the first few blocks, mostly because Michael has no idea what the hell to say. He can feel the warmth of Alex’s body beside him, and it’s driving him crazy, because he wants it underneath his hands again.   
  
“It was nice,” Alex finally breaks the silence, “you, helping me with my project.”  
  
Yeah, it was, but Michael can’t say that.   
  
Instead, he goes for honest truth. “Look, I want this,” Michael says, wanting to be blunt, “but you’re my student. That ends in trouble for both of us and we know it. I don’t want to throw away what I’ve got going on here, and honestly, I don’t think you do either, so nothing can happen.”  
  
“For now.” Alex sounds smug about it, too, like somehow he’s smarter than Michael for figuring it out. They’ve come to a stop near a small set of benches, where students are on blankets studying, playing frisbee, and they’re in such a public place that they can’t do anything.  
  
It’s simultaneously the safest they can be, but also a kind of torture that’s up there with watching Max struggle to learn to play the guitar.  
  
Sure, Alex won’t be in his class, but he’ll still be a student.  
  
Honestly? Michael’s not sure he cares that much.  
  
”I was thinking when the semester is over, I might take you out on a date. If you’re into dating Air Force Captains and you might be willing to try that sort of thing.”  
  
”I could be exclusively into that,” Michael hears himself saying.   
  
“So,” Alex says, coming to a stop a few feet in front of Michael. “End of the semester?”  
  
“End of the semester,” Michael hears himself agreeing. Either this is the best decision he’s ever made or the worst, but he’s going to quickly find out.   
  
*  
  
The final is six days away and Michael is counting down the days.   
  
Lectures have become a painful thing, because Alex has taken to practically fellating his pen as he takes notes, running his lips and tongue over it, which makes Michael use the podium as a protective instrument to hide behind. He’s a complete menace, but seeing as Michael doesn’t intend to get fired from his job for even a hint of impropriety, he is going to  _behave_.  
  
Apparently, Alex Manes did not make the same vow.  
  
“Captain Manes, a word after class in my office?” Michael says, clipped, as the students depart.  
  
He can hear some of the first years making idiotic comments on their way out, but Michael collects his books and heads to his office, prying off his glasses (which he doesn’t need, but it’s good to throw people off the scent of some of other-worldly habits, like perfect health).   
  
Alex ambles into the office casually a few minutes later, looking innocent as all fuck and even whistling nonchalantly, like he thinks this is a joke.   
  
“Alex,” Michael pleads, the moment he closes the doors to his office. “Are you actually trying to kill me?”  
  
“Seriously? Because of  _that_?” Alex asks, waving his pen around. His eyes are bright and he lets his gaze slide over Michael. “Dr. Guerin, when’s the last time you got laid?”  
  
His cheeks go furiously red. “That is  _not_  the p…” He grimaces, breathing out slowly, a frustrated sound on his breath vibrating his lower lip.  _Two years_ , says his helpful brain, because he’s been so busy with work and so uninterested in the options that he’s taken a sex sabbatical. He leans over and forcibly yanks the pen out of Alex’s hands to point at him with it. “Stop it.”  
  
Alex smirks at him.   
  
“Six days,” is all Alex says, reaching over to slide his thumb over the arm of Michael’s glasses, the pad of his thumb continuing to trace over the shell of Michael’s earlobe. “I should go. I’ve got a final in Engineering Materials to study for. I really want to impress the professor.”  
  
Then, he’s gone.  
  
Fucking  _menace_ , thinks Michael, and locks the door so he can jerk off before his office hours resume.   
  
Four days later, his last class looms larger than life. Considering what he knows waits for him at the end of this class and the final, it drags like it’s got ten parachutes hurtling behind it.    
  
Michael finishes teaching his last class, spending the last five minutes literally watching the clock. When it ticks to 4PM, he shouts that everyone should get the hell out. They’re not home free yet, though, as much as Michael desperately wishes they were.   
  
He has to stop himself from floating all the objects in his apartment about three times, as he vibrates with tension, on the morning of the final.   
  
Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long.   
  
Twenty minutes after the exam for his course is over and Michael has packed up to leave (after he’s rushed through grading Alex’s final, shoving it into his TA’s hands so no one can accuse him of impropriety when he starts dating his student), he heads homewards so he can wait for Alex’s call.   
  
He doesn’t even make it to his truck, though.   
  
“Dr. Guerin.”  
  
Michael whips his head around to track the sound of Alex’s voice, finding him leaning up against a tree. He’s wearing that leather jacket of his and Michael has upgraded him mentally from snack to meal.  
  
“Are you free?”  
  
Michael grins as he changes course, grabs Alex by the lapels, and pins his back hard against the tree. He rocks his hips up against Alex’s denim-clad legs, pinning him there as he tangles his fingers into Alex’s hair, fingers flexing and cupping Alex’s neck, tipping his face to the side to  _breathe_  before starting to mark up Alex’s neck with bites and kisses and the slow path of his tongue in a way that he’s been thinking about doing for months.  
  
It’s only the start of his fantasies, but Michael thinks he’s never been happier.   
  
“Well?” Alex asks breathlessly, cupping Michael’s face with both hands like he’s trying to hold onto this ride for dear life. “Are you? Free?”   
  
“Exclusively,” Michael promises, before he kisses Alex in public the way that he’s been thinking about for  _months_. 


	21. western au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is a cowboy with a sordid past and Alex is a bounty hunter with a history with Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To read the full version of this, please enjoy [Boy, I'll Hunt You Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20250376).

“Guerin,” calls Maria, “you might want to mosey out of here.”  
  
Michael glances up from the table that he’s been playing cards at, tipping his black hat up somewhat, giving her the head tilt as he asks her, silently, how much trouble he’s about to be in. In response, she pours five fingers of whiskey, which means on that scale of one to give, if he doesn’t hustle, he’s not leaving with his life.  
  
“Gentlemen,” he says, rising swiftly. “Y’all keep my funds, but I’ll be coming back to play you for them later.”   
  
He makes a hasty exit out the back, but it’s not quick enough to prevent himself from hearing a familiar voice. “Maria DeLuca, just the woman I wanted to see…”  
  
It’s like Michael’s been shot, for the visceral force of the punch that strikes him in his gut. He nearly walks right back into the saloon, but there’s two problems with that. The first being that his face adorns the majority of the Most Wanted posters in the room.  
  
The second being that the voice belongs to Alex Manes, bounty hunter extraordinary, and someone with whom Michael shares one hell of a past with. Even though it feels like his feet are tarred and stuck to the earth, he tips his hat lower over his face and forces himself out.  
  
Alex. What is Alex doing here?   
  
Given how Michael and Alex had left things the last time they’d seen each other, he suspects he already knows the answer is  _nothing good_.   
  
On his way back out to the Evans ranch, he yanks down a few more Wanted posters with his face on them, grimacing as he shoves them in his pocket. Fancy that the man responsible for getting him on those posters has rolled into town. He knows that there had been a brief moment when Alex had almost had a poster of his own, but then, dear old Daddy had fixed that up real nice.  
  
Michael suspects that Alex is in town to collect on his bounty now, because that’s the kind of thing that he deserves in his string of bad luck.  
  
He stashes the papers in the well when he arrives back on the ranch, storming inside all rage and fire, earning both Max and Isobel’s concern.   
  
“What the hell happened to you?” Isobel demands, glancing up from the accounts she’s been going over.  
  
“Alex Manes is in town,” is the first thing he says, hanging his hat and heading inside the kitchen to make sure he’s out of sight from all the windows in case Alex didn’t roll into town alone and he’s been followed. “I don’t know what for, yet, but best be cautious,” he says, loading up his pistol. He doesn’t tend to carry it too often, but if he’s got to defend his life, then he needs it.   
  
Isobel and Max peer at him cautiously. They don’t know the whole of the story, just that the Manes family have it out for him.  
  
”He hasn’t sighted you?”  
  
”No, DeLuca got me the heads up before things turned ugly, I slipped out the back,” Michael assures, sipping his whiskey. “I’ll head out to the fence I’ve been meaning to patch up, camp out under the stars for a while. When he’s gone, one of you can come and get me. I don’t want this trouble touching you. You’ve both been overly nice, letting me stay with you with the bounty on my head…”  
  
“You’re family, Michael,” Max retorts. “It’s the least we can do.”  
  
“We’ll do our best to throw him off the scent, but from what I recall, Alex has a particular habit of finding you.”  
  
There had even been a time when Michael had enjoyed being found by him, but that’s long ago and neither of them are those young idiots – not anymore.  
  
It takes him a few hours to pack up all his things, but when he goes to the stables to get his horse, he’s not alone as he slides the saddle on his girl. Isobel’s made her way out there, draping her shawl over her shoulders.   
  
“You know, you two never talked after the incident.”  
  
Michael chooses not to look at her as he works on tacking the horse. “Funny how your face all over a wanted poster would do that.”   
  
Isobel glances from Michael to his horse, then back to him. “You’re right. I can’t imagine  _why_  the Manes family would be so angry at you. That doesn’t mean Alex is.”  
  
“It’s too dangerous,” Michael says, because no matter what he might hope or feel, there’s no point in him having those emotions if he ends up with a bullet through his brain for the trouble. It means he lies low, waits for Alex to leave town, and goes right back to this pathetic life that he’s cobbled together for himself.  
  
It might be depressing as hell, but at least he’s alive to live it.  
  
Isobel squeezes his shoulder, giving him her moral support as always, but willing to let him make his own mistakes. “We’ll send a runner out when the coast is clear.”  
  
“Much appreciated,” Michael says, and begins his ride out until he’s two miles from the house where the fence has been in disrepair for months.   
  
He sets up camp and the first night, he doesn’t fix a thing. He cooks up stew by the campfire and drinks himself to sleep, which has the unfortunate side-effect of making him dream about the last time he and Alex had been alone together. In the morning, he wakes chilled and alone and it makes him  _angry_.   
  
He takes out that anger on the fence, ripping it to shreds because in order to build it back up again, he needs to tear it down first. By mid-afternoon, he’s earned himself more than a few scrapes, but has the framework mostly in place.   
  
He’s in the middle of hammering in the posts when he hears footsteps over his shoulder. “If you’re here to hurry me up, there’s no point in me finishing until you give me the all clear,” he bitches at Max over his shoulder, hissing when the barbed wire catches his thumb and draws blood. “Unless that’s what you’re here to do, in which case, I got another day of work before I can head back into town.”  
  
”Guerin.”  
  
Michael steadies himself as he rises to his full height. He’s got his back to the man, his bleeding thumb between his lips, but his other hand hovers at the handle of his gun, inches away.   
  
”Guerin, I’m not here to bring you in.”  
  
Michael turns slowly to find Alex Manes standing there. Michael thinks that if this is his last day on earth, then at least the last sight he sees is the most beautiful thing in the world.  
  
”You’re not an easy man to find.”  
  
”That was on purpose, seeing as your father made sure that every damn bounty hunter in the country would be after me.” Michael spits, sending dust flying, just thinking about the $500 bounty on his head. The fact that he would send his own son to collect it is salt in that wound, especially seeing as there’s no ‘dead or alive’ when it comes to the price on Michael Guerin’s head.  
  
Jesse Manes would never be that kind. The only word under that bounty price is DEAD.  
  
”You never even gave me a chance to talk to you before you took off,” Alex protests.  
  
Michael scoffs as he turns, sinking down onto the stool he’d brought with him. Alex has made it very clear that he’s not armed, both in the fact that his holster with both guns is several feet away and he’s stripped down to a loose linen shirt and tight trousers that wouldn’t hide a knife if they even could.  
  
”What was there to talk about? You and I got caught fucking one another in your Daddy’s barn and I’m the one who ended up on the wanted poster.”  
  
”I’m his son,” Alex says, voice clipped. “He just beat me instead of going to the trouble of having my face sketched and printed. Besides, you stealing Dad’s prize horse definitely didn’t help matters. You spoiled his youngest son and took his pride and joy in the same day.”  
  
“I thought sons were supposed to matter to fathers more than horses,” Michael says, setting his hammer down. “How come the horse is the pride and joy and not you?”  
  
Alex scoffs and shakes his head. “You clearly don’t know Jesse Manes.”  
  
“So, you’re not here to bring me in for the bounty?”  
  
“I’m here for the opposite.”  
  
Michael’s curious enough to listen to whatever it is that Alex is proposing. He makes a gesture for him to go on, bending down to pick up his bottle of whiskey, drinking to give himself some liquid courage.  
  
“I know exactly my Dad’s methods. I know how he’ll come after you. I even know where he’s focused his hunt for you. You and me are going to make sure that no one comes after you again.” Michael raises a brow to ask  _how_ , but Alex gets there first. “There’s a few other criminals with your rough physical description out there. We’re going to have to shave those curls of yours for a little, at least until we can convince everyone that you’re dead, but once we haul in one of my other bounties and get your poster down…”  
  
“Then I’m a free man,” Michael says.   
  
“Free to do anything you like, go anywhere you want,” Alex agrees, and after a moment, adds, “Be with anyone you want to be with.”  
  
He hears the hitch in Alex’s breath when he makes that offer.   
  
“What if the only place I’ve ever wanted to be is by your side?”  
  
It’s the exact right thing to say, given how Alex’s face lights up with relief and determination. “Then I’d say it’s a good thing I’ve been looking for a partner.” Michael knows that he’ll have to tell Isobel and Max, he’ll need to shave his head (god help him), and it won’t be easy to avoid Jesse forever, but going out there with Alex to get that price off his head, riding side by side into the sunset?  
  
“Then you’ve got a partner, long as you want him,” Michael says, leaning forward to shake on it, brushing his thumb up and over Alex’s hand when they cement the agreement.   
  
Michael also knows one other thing.  
  
The next time they fool around, they’re doing it with a door that  _locks_. He’s smart enough not to make that mistake twice.

 

* * *

 

_several years later_

 

Winter’s coming on soon, which brings it with a slew of recently made traditions.  
  
Firstly, Alex will complain heartily about the fact that it’s getting colder. Then it will turn to grumbling about pitching their tent in frozen ground and making noise that they ought to head back to the Evans homestead for the season. Michael will entertain his complaining with soothing hushing noises, and each night, he’ll curl him in close and remind Alex why the season is a blessing to them.  
  
He loves a good excuse to get to cuddle up with Alex, after all, and if the cold provides an incentive, then he’s not going to turn it down.  
  
This year, it feels like Alex starts his complaining early, which makes Michael think he’s doing his bitching on purpose so Michael will plaster his chest to Alex’s back and shut him up with soft kisses. It’s no hardship to do so, especially after pitching the tent and climbing in to soothe his grumblings with soft kisses that travel up and down his skin.  
  
One day, they’ll have to entertain the idea of settling somewhere.  
  
Michael even suspects he knows the exact spot of land on the Evans property that they can put up a small home and a barn and call theirs, but for now, the road holds adventure and excitement and all the things that Michael thought they’d get when they were younger, before Jesse Manes and his shotgun came into the picture.  
  
For now, they’re enjoying the brisk autumn nights before the winter truly does come on. Michael’s warm and happy from the last embers of the fire dying down (his cheeks still ruddy with the heat), the alcohol in his belly, and Alex’s body doing the rest. The open road has been damn good to them, he knows, and he’ll never rush them into anything else because he loves it.  
  
Tonight, though, even though they’d curled up by the fire and ate their dinner, Alex apparently still wants to talk inside the tent.  
  
“We got a letter from Max,” Alex murmurs. “It was at the depot when I went to pick up our new round of supplies.”  
  
Letters from Max aren’t a strange thing, though they’re also not frequent. Usually Max writes about bounties that they can chase down, news about the ranch, and keeps them up to speed with Isobel and Maria’s courting, or provides boring news from the town. Maria’s letters are the ones filled with the gossip from the saloon and they’re the ones Michael far prefers. It’s why he always steals the perfumed notes from Alex and leaves the boring ones to his partner.  
  
“What crop are we planting this year?” Michael jokes, cheerful about how  _boring_  Max can be. “Don’t tell me. Corn.”  
  
Alex rolls his eyes, shifting onto his back so he can give Michael a light push. “You’re an ass,” he says fondly, because if there’s one thing Michael knows, it’s that Alex adores him for his unique personality. “He wants advice.”  
  
“I don’t know how to get the stick out of his ass,” Michael teases, returning to those kisses he’s pressing to Alex’s neck, knowing that with luck, he’ll be able to distract him from this conversation so they don’t have to talk about Max anymore. 

Unfortunately for him, Alex is determined. He ducks his head out of the way, reaching for the letter. “He’s besotted, Michael. He wants our help.”  
  
“He’s got Isobel and Maria,” Michael complains, grabbing at Alex’s hips to try and yank him back. “Alex,” he protests. “We’re not going to sit here all night and talk about Max’s love life, are we?”  
  
From the way Alex rustles up the blanket in the spare pack to shove at Michael, they clearly are. They never deviate from their one shared blanket arrangement unless Alex is feeling determined that they’re not going to get up to any funny business.  
  
“I don’t know. You should read it. He’s your family, but it sounds like he needs  _us_.”  
  
“Specifically us?” Michael clarifies, feeling pretty damn dubious.  
  
Alex shrugs and reaches into his pack to dig out the letter, handing it over to Michael. “You tell me.”  
  
Michael weighs his options. He could pin Alex down on his back and distract him from all of this, but if Alex’s mind is already on the subject, there’ll be no changing it. Michael grumbles and reaches for Alex’s satchel to dig out the letter, readjusting himself so his cheek’s on Alex’s Henley-clad chest as he reads it, eyes half-lidded for the way Alex’s fingers stroke through his curls (finally fully regrown).  
  
It turns out the property beside the Evans ranch has sold to a family of ranchers from Mexico, the Ortechos, who have two daughters. From the sounds of it, Max has fallen hard and fast for Elizabeth, the eldest, who rides around the property on her mare with the skill of a woman who’s been doing it for years and could outride any man who tried to challenge her.  
  
She sounds unbridled, exciting, wild, and passionate.  
  
It’s all the things Max isn’t, which means they’d probably be a damn good match. Alex is right, too. There’s something in the language of the letter that says that Max wants to speak to them about romance, which means they’re on their way back to the Evans ranch a little sooner than expected.  
  
“We’ll pack up tomorrow,” he tells Alex, once he’s folded and sealed the letter again. “See if we can’t get Max some movement between his sheets that isn’t his own hand.”  
  
Alex hums his agreement, though he doesn’t sound surprised that Michael’s doing exactly as Alex has intended. Then again, why would he? Alex knows he’s got Michael Guerin in the palm of his hand, and there’s no outcome that would’ve happened that  _isn’t_  them going back because it’s what Alex wants. From the way he sounds half-asleep, Michael suspects that he’s not going to be able to rouse Alex into anything else, but that’s fine, seeing as he doesn’t intend to disturb Alex’s rest.  
  
The days on the road are hard and he’s not about to steal a moment’s respite from Alex.  
  
The next morning, Michael wakes early and gently disentangles himself from Alex’s side to pack up the camp and the horses, leaving the tent for last. When breakfast is ready and sizzling on the campfire pan, he ducks back into the tent and crawls under the blankets to slide his warm hands under Alex’s shirt.  
  
“Michael,” Alex moans happily. “Your hands are so warm.”  
  
“Been cooking you breakfast,” he whispers, wrapping around him snugly. “Which is going to burn if you don’t wake up.”  
  
“No morning blowjob, then?” Alex asks mournfully.  
  
“You’re the one who wanted to head back and help give Max romantic advice. I got us all ready, which means a hearty breakfast,” Michael says cheerfully, kissing Alex’s cheek. “Besides, I thought maybe we’d save my mouth on you for the road, give you a nice little surprise to look forward to.”  
  
Alex rouses and opens one eye to look at Michael, like he’s truly considering rejecting his nice offer. He offers out both hands. “All right,” he finally concedes. “Let’s have some breakfast and start riding for the Evans homestead,” he says, allowing Michael pull him up. Michael grins as he does, and pulls Alex up until he’s got him outside, taking down the tent and making sure there’s no trace left of them.  
  
He also holds true to his promise and gives Alex a blowjob on the side of the road a few miles on, protected by their horses, because he’s a man of his word.  
  
Within days, they’re back in striking distance of the Evans home, which really say something about the fact that they’d already been close. Maybe subconsciously, the both of them had already been anticipating the return and hadn’t wanted to get too far. By the time they arrive, the nights are too cold for sleeping outdoors, so it’s a timely arrival  
  
Michael’s wearing his thick coat when he arrives, enveloped in hugs from Isobel and Maria, and warm claps on the back from Max. Alex heads in with the rest of their things to much the same welcome, and Maria coaxes them to the kitchen to enjoy lunch.  
  
“We weren’t expecting you back so soon,” Maria admits, when she has to reduce the portions. “Usually you’re not back for another few weeks when the weather goes chilled.”  
  
“Normally, that’s the case, but we got Max’s letter,” Alex replies, mopping up some of Maria’s famous stew with a piece of fresh bread, making a pleased noise as he tastes it (which is an insult because Michael gave her that recipe for bread). “We thought it would work out better for us to get back here, seeing as Max seemed to want our ear.”  
  
“We’re here now, Max,” Michael says smugly. “I’ll give you all the advice I can on getting someone to fall in love with you.”  
  
Max gapes at him, as if Michael’s gone and said that he plans to lasso down the moon and teach it to speak Spanish. “Michael,” he begins, and he sounds awkward and wary, like he’s just not sure what he’s supposed to say.  
  
“It’s okay,” Alex intervenes, which gets a wary look from Michael because why the hell wouldn’t Max want his advice? He pampers Alex every chance he gets with fancy clothes and food and alcohol, not to mention he’s a goddamn delight between the sheets. “I know that it’s not his advice you want,” he promises, acting modest and self-effacing, even if he looks like an asshole to pretend Michael’s not a goddamn expert.  
  
Max is paralyzed, staring at them with wide eyes.  
  
“I’ll give you advice on romantic gestures,” Alex assures with an encouraging smile, as if Max only needs ask.  
  
“Look, I don’t know if you misinterpreted my letter or something,” Max says cautiously, “but I was hoping more for advice on what you both did so I can  _avoid_  it.”  
  
“What the fuck?”  
  
“Yeah, what the fuck?” Alex echoes, as offended as Michael.  
  
“Michael, your reaction to being caught with Alex was to jump out a barn window half-dressed,” Max accuses. He’s not wrong there, so Michael shrugs. He also ran away and stayed there because he didn’t want to die, so maybe his advice would truly be on laying low, which isn’t what Max wants. With a pointed finger, he turns his assessment on Alex. “And  _you_ , on the surface, did a very romantic thing for Michael, but when you dig down into it, it’s kind of terrifying.”  
  
“It is not,” Alex protests.  
  
“Sweetie, you spent years hunting down curly-haired outlaws so you could kill one and haul a corpse into town like a cat to present to Michael,” Maria comments from the sidelines. “If ever there was a what not to do…”  
  
“So I figured I’d tell the both of you my plan and if either of you really liked it, it’s probably not a good idea,” Max admits.  
  
Sure, it’s not what they’d expected, but it’s still rude as fuck that Isobel laugh as loudly as she does. “Oh, your faces,” she insists, shoulders still shaking with the mirth. “Honestly, I wish that you could see them.” She pinches Alex’s cheek and elbows Michael in the side. “He’s not wrong.”  
  
Alex makes a face. “He’s also not right,” he complains.  
  
“We’re plenty romantic!” he protests. “It’s…you know, in our own unique way.”  
  
“You are,” Maria allows, who’s clearly the woman with sanity and isn’t trying to rile the both of them up. “And it’s why the both of you are perfect for  _each other_ , and at the same time absolutely not the right people to give advice to Max about his new love. So, do the man a favor, listen to his ideas, and if you dislike them, then it’ll work out perfectly for them. Not everyone uses corpses like bouquets of flowers, after all.”  
  
They grumble and complain, but settle enough to do just that.  
  
Later, when they’re settled in the guest bedroom that’ll be theirs for the winter, Michael’s finishing unpacking when Alex says, “You liked it, right? What I did for you?” He sounds so damn unsure that Michael could have Max’s head.  
  
Crawling into bed in nothing but a pair of flannel pants, Michael straddles Alex and pins him to the bed with a light touch at his shoulders. “You spent years trying to find a way for us to be together without me looking over my shoulder the whole time,” he says, tipping his head to the side with a besotted, soft look in his eyes. “I  _love_  what you did for me. Max is an idiot, anyone can see you’re the most romantic one around for miles.”  
  
Alex visibly relaxes at that, like he’s been truly, genuinely worried.  
  
“Now,” Michael says, “how about I show you a little more romance and why Max should feel stupid about not asking  _me_  for advice.”  
  
Alex hasn’t got a protest on his lips for it, as Michael sinks down to begin his worship of Alex’s body. At least, not an upset one, because if there’s one thing about Alex, it’s that he’s always so vocally reverent about Michael’s affections, which does a lot to bolster a man’s ego. By the time they’re collapsed together (sticky, sweaty, and sated) and on the cusp of sleep, Michael’s feeling better about not being asked for romantic advice.  
  
Because what the hell does Max know?  
  
Michael’s got the love of his life in his arms.  
  
Anyone smart enough would be  _begging_ to know how he did that.


	22. hogwarts au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Bullying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: These are just my sorting preferences, but also how they worked best for the story, I know, I know, I know that people have other ideas, and they are all just as valid and awesome!

“Today, children, we delve into amortentia,” Professor DeLuca announces after she swans into the room with her portions collected up in a bag under her arm, bearing the look of a woman who knows exactly how much chaos she’s inviting by asking a room of seventeen-year-olds to make a potion that reveals one’s deepest desires.  
  
From the other side of the class where the Slytherins are gathered, Valenti snorts. “Manes is gonna be smelling dick, huh?” Isobel, with them by virtue of loyalty, hauls her books up and plants herself at the Gryffindor table with Max and Alex instead of with her Slytherin classmates.   
  
“Ignore those assholes,” she huffs, reaching over to help balance Max’s potions. “Kyle will be lucky if he smells anything but his own aftershave, he’s so in love with himself these days.”  
  
“What about Liz’s perfume?” Alex suggests, measuring things out cautiously, not even paying attention to how Max blushes. “They are dating.” He’s not actually trying to rub Max’s face in it, but it’s good to remind him about that sometimes when Max starts talking about wooing Liz away.  
  
The last thing he needs is to get in the middle of another duel that goes badly, all because of some stupid romance.  
  
“Let’s just get to work,” Isobel suggests, leaning over both of them to start plucking ingredients. “I don’t need to worry about my brother getting petrified again because he’s dueling over Liz Ortecho’s honor,” she says with a roll of her eyes, throwing ingredients into the pot with a seeming lack of care, but Alex knows better.  
  
She knows exactly what she’s doing.  
  
Unfortunately, just because they’ve decided to move on doesn’t mean Kyle and his asshole cronies have. Alex can feel things being thrown his way and Mimi DeLuca is too busy helping other students to notice – not to mention Kyle conveniently keeps stopping whenever she’s looking.  
  
“Oh, here it comes,” Kyle announces. “C’mon, guys, Alex should be salivating any minute, you know how badly he craves those  _hot dogs_.”  
  
Alex frowns and tries to put on blinders and focus on the potion, but when he takes a deep breath, he has the feeling he’s screwed up when he smells not a collection of items, but a singular  _person_.  
  
Behind the chaos of their two warring tables, Michael and Maria DeLuca are working steadfastly at theirs. She’s flicking his Hufflepuff tie out of the way before it lands in the potion again. It figures that the smell of Michael had wafted his way from the table, so he shakes his head and gets right back to making it again. It doesn’t make sense that he’d be smelling Michael like that, so he must have done something wrong to get an odorless amortentia.   
  
Yet, when he finishes his re-do, it hasn’t changed.  
  
Broom oil, varnish, and the cream Michael uses in his curls. Alex’s cheeks heat up when it occurs to him that it’s not because Michael is sitting behind them, but because Alex is smelling him in the potion. “What do you smell?” he asks Max in a hurry, trying to keep Valenti’s attention off him, even if he feels like it’s fixed his way.  
  
“Liz’s perfume,” says Max, as miserably in love with the Ravenclaw prefect as he has been since they were third years. Isobel gives Alex a pointed look and he recognizes it as the ‘we have to do something about Max’ look.   
  
Normally, he’d agree. Right now, he knows Isobel well enough that he knows what’s about to happen next.   
  
“Well, I smell someone’s perfume, too,” she says, and it throws Alex for a loop. He really thought that she’d throw him under the bus, noticing that he’d had to remake his potion, but it quickly becomes apparent that Isobel’s cunning ambition to get something isn’t about distracting Max right now so much as it’s about getting something  _she_  wants.  
  
Well, getting something she wants and putting Valenti in his place.   
  
“Maria,” Isobel says.   
  
From the Hufflepuff table, Maria glances up. “What?”  
  
“Oh, no,” she says sweetly, her eyes fixed on Kyle. “Max and Alex were asking what I smelled in the amortentia. I was answering.”  
  
The entire class goes silent.  
  
Maria is staring at Isobel and Alex bites his lip. Isobel’s crush on Maria isn’t exactly a badly kept secret, but he hangs out with Maria and Liz enough to see all the looks that Isobel throws her way. Professor DeLuca has helpfully excused herself with the announcement that class is over. Maria’s got both palms on the table, leaning forward to make sure that her mother is out of sight.   
  
“Evans,” Maria calls, and Isobel hums sweetly as she turns, which allows Maria to grab Isobel by her green and black tie, yanking her in for a kiss.  
  
Valenti, who knows what’s best for him, is not making any comments about seafood, clams, or anything fish-related, which is handy, because Isobel happens to be one of the best students when it comes to legilimency and she could turn his brain to soup if she wanted.  
  
It means that the torment for Alex is over, too.   
  
He sighs in relief, though that’s only one problem down. Alex works on packing up his things, trying to hurry out of there before Valenti can take out his humiliation on him, but he’s not quick enough. Someone drops their books in front of him and he closes his eyes, hoping it’s not Valenti and his goons, or worse, Flint to come and pick up the baton.   
  
When he looks up, Michael Guerin is standing there.  
  
“Hey,” Alex greets him, nervously.  
  
“I saw you remake your potion,” he says. “Did something go wrong? Do you need some extra help, because I’d definitely be willing to…”  
  
“I thought I made it wrong because I smelled you,” Alex blurts out, because Michael can keep on being chivalrous and so  _nice_ and good to him. “You were sitting right behind me, so I figured that I wasn’t smelling the potion, but I was smelling you instead, only, then on the second time when it didn’t change, I realized that it was  _you_ …”  
  
Michael doesn’t bolt. He doesn’t even look scared.  
  
Alex’s heart pounds wildly in his chest, watching Michael settle into the stool beside him. “Black nail varnish, broom oil, and the smell of the detergent you use on your sheets that I smell when I visit…” He gives Alex a crooked grin. “I’d probably smell that muggle computer of yours if it had a smell,” he quips.   
  
Alex is pretty sure his heart is going to explode from his chest and they’ll have to spell him back together. “…uhhhh…”  
  
“So,” Michael keeps going, like he doesn’t even notice what he’s done to Alex. “I was thinking about going to grab some food and maybe heading out to study. I know you don’t need the extra help, but maybe, do you wanna come with me?”  
  
Because his voice has clearly been stolen by some nefarious creature in the room, Alex has to resort to frantic nodding, grabbing his things to bundle them tight to his chest. He’s so glad that Isobel had distracted everyone else so they could have  _this_  moment.   
  
“So, is that a yes?”  
  
“Fuck yes.”  
  
“Manes,” Michael says with a smirk. “ _Language.”_  
  
Later, when Alex is giving him a hickey and Michael is cursing up a storm in the Hufflepuff room, he’s not nearly as concerned about language. That night, when he sneaks back to the Gryffindor common room, he smells of broom oil and Michael’s curl cream.   
  
Max gives Alex a knowing look, even if there’s a haunted look in his eyes.   
  
Alex defiantly curls into bed, turning away from any comments Max feels compelled to make about what Alex smells like, instead thinking about how he’d left Michael with one last kiss, his black varnish painted nails buried in Michael’s curls, holding on tight.  
  
Yeah. He’s pretty sure he’s not failing potions at  _all_ , because he got amortentia as right as he thinks you can get it. 


	23. ptsd stressed alex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liz confides in Michael about Alex's PTSD and mentions that he doesn't seem to be as fine as he's pretending to be because she knows he's trying to be the strong one for everyone else to lean on.

It’s hard to notice, if you’re not paying attention.   
  
At least, that’s what Liz has said to him three times over the course of this conversation and truthfully, Michael’s kind of tired of hearing it. He can read between the lines and finding out that he’s fucked up by trying to do the right thing stabs him between the ribs like a sharp blade.  
  
“I only noticed when we were hanging out with Maria and her mom the other week,” Liz admits, leaning against his table in the Crashdown. “He zoned out completely when a car backfired and then when the new guy burned a towel and it caught fire, he bolted for the bathroom.”  
  
He hadn’t noticed.  
  
Liz keeps talking, but Michael’s doing his own version of zoning out, because he’d been so busy trying to give Alex space that he’d gone all the way the other way and ignored the obvious signs in his face.   
  
Some genius he is.  
  
“…anyway, I figure maybe I’ll have him come over for dinner this weekend. He can lecture me some more about being a bad friend, but it’d be nice to have him come over.”  
  
Michael has no idea what’s been happening on the human side of things, but this little talk has filled in the blanks. While he’d been working on figuring out how to stop Isobel’s blackouts, Alex has been taking it on himself to worry about Maria and Liz, trying to keep things together, and though it sounds like Liz doesn’t know what’s going on, she also mentions that he’s been hanging out with Valenti more. Then, Isobel had gone into the pod and he and Liz had started working non-stop to fight against that, all while Alex had been fighting his own battles.  
  
He knows a thing or two about burning the candle at both ends. 

After the drive-in, Michael had made it a point to give Alex space, but he didn’t think that Alex would take all that space and run himself ragged with it. This calls for an intervention.   
  
“You know what, I haven’t seen him in ages,” Michael says, knowing that Liz doesn’t know about their history, but had seen them hanging out at the drive-in and the reunion, so she knows they’re friends. “Do you mind if I stole him for the night?”   
  
Liz gives him a surprised look, but nods. “Sure! Do you want me to warn him that you’re going to…”  
  
“Nah,” Michael says, not wanting Alex to be undertaking evasive maneuvers just to avoid hanging out with him. “No, I’ll swing by and grab him this weekend, try and take him away and maybe get him to relax.”  
  
Liz packs him up lunch to go, and Michael leaves the diner kicking himself in the ass for assuming that Alex was better off if Michael fully cut him out of his life instead of being a supportive friend instead of wanting things to go right back to that epic, explosive place they’d left it in.  
  
It’s his own fault. He doesn’t really know what it’s like to have real friends, but maybe it’s time he figured it out.  
  
That’s how Michael finds himself at the cabin, with a piece of fabric over his fingertips. He doesn’t intend to use it without Alex’s express permission, but he kind of hopes he’s going to get it.  
  
Alex opens the screen door, staring warily at Michael.   
  
”You know, between Kyle trying to break into my house and now you on my porch with a  _blindfold_ , I’m starting to think home ownership is way more exciting than anyone would’ve led me to believe.” He crosses his arms over his chest, pressing his lips together. “What are you doing here, Guerin, I’m busy.”  
  
Yeah, he bets he is.   
  
”I heard that you had lunch with the girls, spent the day with them and Mimi DeLuca,” Michael says, absently running the blindfold back and forth over his hand. “Liz…said some things,” he says, feeling like a weird awkward tattletale. “Look, you did a great thing, being there for Maria,” is what he says, and Michael had been there too for her when she’d broken down.  
  
Now it’s his turn to worry about Alex.  
  
”How about you let someone else watch out for you?” Before Alex can say anything else. “I just want to give you break, Alex, nothing else.”   
  
He knows better than to complicate things by talking about their history or, god forbid, their future. If Alex is still suffering, if he’s still having flashbacks to the war, Michael needs to avoid layering more stress on top of that.  
  
Alex stares at him warily, but turns and locks up behind him. “So the blindfold isn’t a kinky thing?”  
  
Michael doesn’t even take the opening for what it is. He hands it to Alex. “Once we’re in the truck, you can put it on. I figured maybe you wouldn’t mind a bit of a surprise, or you could just use it to grab a few z’s on the drive into town.”  
  
Alex still looks wary, but he climbs into the passenger seat of the truck and after a long moment of thought, he even slides the blindfold on.  
  
The amount of trust it`s taken for him to do that resonates with Michael, and makes him relieved that no matter what had happened between them, it`s not all ruined.   
  
Michael’s been planning this all day. Every time he’d thought about ringing Isobel for help, he remembers where she is and it only makes him work harder on the Alex issue, because it helps to take his mind off the part where he’s failing Iz by not finding a solution.  
  
When he pulls the truck into park, he reaches over to rest his good hand on top of Alex’s. “Hey,” he murmurs. “We’re here, you can take that off.”  
  
Alex does, slowly, and it rumples his hair. It takes every ounce of self-restraint in Michael’s body not to reach over and fix it for him, but he manages (barely). He watches with delight as Alex registers where they are.  
  
”Guerin,” Alex exhales, climbing out of the truck, leaving the blindfold on the seat. He’s staring up at the UFO Emporium sign, but Michael quickly leads them inside so Alex can see the rest.   
  
He’d set this up earlier and everything is ready. There’s a guitar lying up against one of the drapes covering an exhibit, there’s a six-pack of beer, and a few blankets on the ground. Michael watches as Alex runs through shock, surprise, grief, and then lands on a sad fondness.   
  
He knows this isn’t going to change anything, but it’s not about them.  
  
Tonight is about Alex.  
  
“Liz mentioned that when you and Maria were hanging out with Mimi, you seemed kind of spaced out sometimes,” Michael admits, hoisting himself to sit up on one of the empty plinths, leaning his shoulder back against a starry wall. “It got me thinking that ever since you’ve been back, it’s kind of been nonstop for you. I mean, the parade, the reunion,” he lists, “but then you were moving into a new place, trying to adjust to Liz being back in town, Valenti being back in your life…”  
  
“How do you know all this?”  
  
“Liz and I,” Michael says, making a face, “talk now.”  
  
There’s plenty of time for that when you’re spending your days and nights trying to find a cure for Isobel, who’s sitting in a pod waiting for them to figure it out.   
  
“I wish I could videotape that, make her watch you make that face,” Alex comments, with an amused smirk. He keeps walking inside, studying the place, noticing the thin layer of dust though things have started to move around in preparation for the re-opening.   
  
“Michael…”  
  
Michael feels his stomach twist up. Alex has never called him by his first name and while he’s always wanted it, he’s not sure what it means to hear it off his lips. “Yeah?”  
  
“You brought me to the alien museum.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“…are you ready to tell me?”  
  
Michael stares at Alex and his first thought isn’t,  _how do you know?  
_  
No. His first thought is that it explains why Alex has been so tense, why some of that old stress has been coming back. He’s found out about aliens, all the awful things that happened in the past, and he’s been thrown back into a war zone, only it’s because instead of a government putting him in the face of danger, now it’s his friends.   
  
Michael swallows back the lump in his throat, shaking his head. “Alex,” he chides. “I brought you here so you would stop making it all about someone else. You don’t have to spend every minute being strong for your father or your country or even me. If you want to feel like shit, I highly recommend it. It goes great with a whisky chaser. You don’t have to pretend to be okay all of the time.”  
  
Though, Michael reflects, he can only imagine the number Jesse Manes had done on his son when it comes to perceptible weakness.  
  
“You don’t have to be strong around me about anything. Your leg, the war, being back, finding out about me,” he says, even though that last bit scares the shit out of him. “I know you don’t want to be with me, but I’m not going anywhere. I think I proved that over the last ten years.”   
  
Alex is staring at him and hasn’t run away, so Michael feels safe to keep going.  
  
”When you’re ready to stop trying to fix everything else, when you’re tired of being the base of support and the voice of reason for everyone else, I’m here. However you want me, I’m here.”  
  
He’s not expecting the hug he gets from Alex, though it quickly shifts from being an embrace into something messier. It’s Alex burying his face in Michael’s neck, tears against his skin, fingernails scratching Michael’s shirt as he struggles to hold on, all while his breathing goes messy.  
  
It’s a man who’s falling apart because he can and he’s allowed to.  
  
Michael strokes his back, not hushing him or telling him that it’s all going to be okay. He doesn’t like lies or secrets when he can avoid them and right now, he needs to be Alex’s rock. He needs to be able to comfort him.  
  
So he doesn’t make empty promises. “I’ve got you,” is what he says instead. “I’m here, Alex. I’m here when you need me.”  
  
Alex drifts back and when he breathes in, it sounds shaky, but not broken.   
  
That’s when Michael knows he didn’t fuck up.  
  
They spend the night sitting six feet apart, drinking beer and  _talking_. Alex plays the guitar and Michael lets his chaotic mind drift into silence, while Alex lies sprawled on the ground and talks about what it had been like overseas, though he doesn’t talk about the day he’d lost his leg.  
  
Michael isn’t surprised. He knows they’ve got a long way to go, in all kinds of ways. When it’s two in the morning, Alex finally struggles to his feet, gesturing down to his leg.   
  
”I really should get back home. I might not turn into a pumpkin, but my leg definitely gets as red as a tomato if I wear this too long.”  
  
”I’ll drive you,” Michael assures, tidying everything up and dumping it into the bed of his truck. The silence in the truck on the way back is nowhere near as tense and awkward as it had been on the way, and Michael’s smiling privately given how he feels like he finally did something right.  
  
Alex lingers on the porch waving at him, and maybe Michael’s just buzzing from spending the night with Alex after being away for so long, but he thinks maybe they’ve turned a corner.  
  
There’s still so much to talk about. Michael’s history, Alex’s leg, all the unspoken traumas they’re hiding under a shallow veneer, but he’s accomplished his goal tonight – make sure Alex knows he doesn’t always have to be the strong one, that someone will be there if he wants to break down.  
  
Next Saturday, Michael is working on a few cars at the junkyard when he hears the tires of a truck pull up.   
  
“I brought coffee,” comes Alex’s voice, sounding worn and tired. “You feel like taking a break? It’s been … it’s been a hell of a day,” he says, and Michael can’t help how  _happy_  he is to see Alex willingly coming to him instead of forcing himself to reshape his life into his father’s ideal image.  
  
He’s always known that Alex is the strongest man he knows, that’s one of the things he loves about him. He’s also incredibly proud, now, to know that Alex feels open enough to be weak around Michael, which takes a different kind of strength that even Michael isn’t sure he possesses.  
  
“I told you, I’m always here,” Michael says, letting the hood of the car he’s working on slam shut.  
  
He’s ready to live up to his promises for Alex, because he’d do absolutely anything for him and he looks forward to making sure that he’s not the only one in town to support him in those moments of strain and stress.  
  
For now, he’s more than happy being that person, because if anyone deserves to be supported the way he gives that strength to everyone else, it’s Alex Manes.


	24. mylex - winged au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aliens don't just have powers, they also have wings.

The first thing Alex notices about the new kid in school is that he always wears these giant hoodies and he always seems uncomfortable. People are quick to gossip about him, but the most popular story is that he’s a new student who’s been in and out of foster homes for years and now he’s back at Roswell. People whisper that he’s been abused, which is why he flinches if your hand goes too close to his back, why he always wears those baggy shirts, and why he seems so awkward.  
  
His name is Michael Guerin, and he takes to friendship with the Evans twins with ease. Isobel, with all her confidence and Max with his intense bookishness, both accept Michael like it’s as simple as breathing. There’s something about the both of them that Alex feels like he’s missing, like something he’s supposed to notice out of the corner of his eye.  
  
The day Michael Guerin shows up, he stops trying to notice anything else.  
  
“…don’t even bother,” he hears Liz saying.  
  
Alex tunes back into the conversation, gaping at Maria and Liz. “What?”  
  
“We were asking what you wanted to do this weekend, but clearly all you want to do is stare at the new kid.”  
  
Alex’s cheeks flush red and he stares intently down at his lunch, neatly and obsessively folding his plastic wrap in squares so he doesn’t have to look up, seeing as he knows Liz and Maria will both peg his flushed expression for exactly what it is – he’s got a  _crush_  on the new kid.   
  
“We can do anything you guys want,” he says, having leaned long ago that giving the girls what they want will take the focus off of him.  
  
The new kid isn’t going anywhere, which means that Alex can stare at him later and try and figure out why he holds himself the way he does or why he always seems so hunched over, as if he’s got the weight of a world on his back.  
  
*  
  
For years, Alex stares at Michael and lets his crush develop.  
  
Through high school, Michael never stops with the baggy sweatshirts. He never stops feeling like there’s an itch he can’t scratch about Isobel Evans, like he hasn’t noticed something, and he tries not to notice that Max and Michael seem to swap hoodies every now and again. The rumor mill helps with that one, because it whispers that Max is wildly in love with Liz, so he’s definitely not sleeping with Michael.  
  
They just share clothes for some other reason, probably.   
  
One night, in junior year, Alex is at the school late because he’d promised Liz he’d go to Kyle’s football game with her, but halfway through, he’d heard the sneers from the team at him and had told her that he needed to go for a walk. He’s trying to kill time until the game is over and Liz will let them go home, and he’s in the middle of his rounds towards the music room when he hears movement.  
  
Peeking in, he sees a flash of Michael’s curls from the window. He’s about to open the door and tease Michael for being so into school that he’s here this late when he shifts a few inches to the side and sees Michael stripping off his shirt.   
  
Dry-mouthed, Alex opens the door to tell him that he’s not alone, but it’s not before something else entirely impossible.   
  
“What are those?” Alex exhales aloud, shocked when he sees Michael letting something release and feathery golden wings expand behind his back. He hadn’t meant to startle Michael like that, but he couldn’t keep it in.   
  
Michael swears and starts to fold them back in. “Shit! Fuck, I thought everyone had gone home!” It’s past eight in the music room, so Alex understands the logic, but unfortunately Alex’s need to avoid the shitty football team and their childish and determined attempts to make him feel like shit means that he’s here.  
  
Michael Guerin has wings that make him look like an angel.  
  
Does that mean he’s…  
  
“Are you an angel?” Alex asks, hearing himself and feeling stupid for it, but he’s really not sure what other conclusion he’s supposed to come to. No one in the world has wings, why would Michael?  
  
“You’re not even gonna ask me if it hurt when I fell?” Michael quips, holding his sweatshirt to his chest, anxiously. “Alex,” he says, his flirtatious tone at odds with the nervous look on his face. “I’m insulted.”  
  
He needs answers, but Alex realizes that he needs something more in this moment.  
  
“Can I touch them?”  
  
Michael flushes a color that Alex has never seen before, but he nods. “They’re really sensitive,” he admits, his voice hoarse, but that doesn’t stop Alex from stepping towards him to slide his rough guitar-string-calloused fingertips over the feathery wings, his breath in his throat.  
  
When Michael moans, all bets are off.  
  
“Don’t you wanna know why I have wings?” he asks, when he sees the way Alex is looking at him, as if he knows what’s coming.   
  
He does want to know. Does he want to know more than he wants to keep touching them? Does he need to understand about the wings more than Alex’s increasing desire to kiss the boy he’s had a crush on for years? Grabbing Michael by the hips, he stumbles them back a few steps, and they only stop because those wings unfurl and flap just the once, stopping them as his hair rustles on his head.   
  
His eyes are on Michael’s lips, not those wings. He’ll get to it later.  
  
“Oh,” is all Michael says, like he’s finally on the same page. And then, “ _Yeah_.”  
  
When Alex kisses him, one hand slides to those unfurled wings and strokes along the softest thing he’s ever felt in his life, while kissing the most handsome boy he’s ever known. Michael might be an angel, honestly, because kissing him is like heaven and he’d happily be raptured if it meant he could keep kissing him like that forever.   
  
Luckily for Alex, when he eases back to smile dazedly at his good fortune, Michael chases him for a second kiss that holds all the promise of those kisses never stopping.

*  
  
_Thirteen Years Later_

“You’re going to the doctor.”  
  
Michael hisses and gives Alex a pained look. He’s breathing in as best as he can, but the mangled wing behind him that’s bleeding is a pain that he hasn’t felt since he was seventeen and he lost use of his hand. This time, he knows the damage isn’t because of malice or ill intent, but his own  _stupidity_  in not setting up the lift properly.  
  
Alex hovering over him is bad enough.  
  
“I’m not going to Kyle!” he snaps.  
  
“Then Kyle’s coming to you!”  
  
Michael lets out a frustrated burst of energy, his telekinesis sending every object in the auto shop a few inches further away from him. He grimaces and watches the blood dropping on the ground, knowing that he’s not getting away with this. “Fine,” he snaps. “I fucking should’ve known when we let him come into our relationship that it would always be two against one,” he complains.  
  
Alex clearly isn’t impressed with the comment, from the disbelieving glare on his face. Michael’s hissing out in pain, wishing that he had Max nearby so he could just heal him and they wouldn’t have to worry about this. He turns away to text, the look on his face something that Michael’s previously dubbed: Pissy Boyfriend.   
  
It means that if he weren’t currently injured, he’d be sleeping on the couch for at least the next week.   
  
Michael grabs the nearby bottle of acetone and gulps it whole in three swallows, grimacing as he leans forward, his wings still unfurled and casting a shadow over him. The humans don’t have them, and Michael isn’t sure if this is an alien thing or if it’s just a him, Max, and Isobel thing, but it’s a secret they’ve had to come to terms with.   
  
Isobel usually just uses her powers to convince people that nothing is there, to not see her gossamer wings. Max’s wings, black and swan-like, were always kept in braces. Michael’s, more like a hawk, had braces of his own, but he tended to let them out because he loved the feeling of being free.   
  
In the night, he’d fly among the stars, feeling like he was back at home amongst them.  
  
He’s distracted from his thoughts when he hears the squeal of tires, signalling Kyle’s arrival. Michael sighs and digs out a second acetone bottle to start drinking from that, albeit slower, preparing himself for the incoming lecture.   
  
“Alex, I got your text, what’s…oh, shit,” Kyle says, staggering to a stop.   
  
Michael knows that he must look like a mess.   
  
“He needs someone who knows what he’s doing,” Alex protests, grabbing Kyle to haul him inside. He closes the door behind him, a hand pressed to the place on Kyle’s arm just above his elbow, holding on like he needs the support, his thumb stroking up and down Kyle’s bicep while staring at Michael with worry.  
  
Yup. Two against one.   
  
He fucking knew this would happen.   
  
“You both know I barely have any information on these things, right? Because  _someone_ won’t let us take scans,” Kyle says pointedly.   
  
Michael should have had them in their braces to keep them hidden, he should have had them tucked away, but in his own shop and while he’s working, he hadn’t thought it would be a problem. Clearly, he’s failing his own health and safety codes.   
  
The wings had been fully out, golden brown feathers adorning the floor as he lay beneath the car, up a few feet on the lift. Something had gone wrong, though, and the car had come crashing down. In his panic, Michael’s powers had kicked in and he’d managed to avoid the car slamming fully on him, but he still had managed to take a hard scrape and bruising to his left wing, which is the one bleeding all over the ground.  
  
“What do I do, do I even bandage this?” Kyle asks Alex, and it’s becoming clear that this is just the blind leading the blind.   
  
“You’re the doctor!”  
  
“Fine!” Kyle swears under his breath. “Okay, let’s staunch the blood and then I’ll sew anything shut,” he says, giving Michael an annoyed look. “I’m not a vet, you know.”  
  
The acetone has rendered him a little dopey and blissfully out of it. “Yup,” is all he musters up to contribute to this conversation. He sinks into a chair, backwards, and rests his chin on his hands while he feels Alex trying to stop the bleeding, while Kyle opens the first aid kit to start sewing the wings shut.   
  
He’s sleepy with exhaustion, acetone, and basking in the safe warmth of having them both looking after them when he hears Alex and Kyle talking above him, trying to be sneaky.  
  
“We could probably get him in for a scan if we grabbed a trenchcoat and…”  
  
“No,” Michael pipes up, hearing  _that_  part. He glaces to the both of them and lifts up the bottle, as if reminding them that once they get him to stop bleeding, he’ll do what he always does when he gets hurt.  
  
He’ll curl up with his wings loose in bed, fall asleep in an acetone haze, and tuck Kyle and Alex under a wing apiece. Tonight, he wouldn’t mind so much if they also slid their fingers through the feathers, but there will be no hospitals, there will be no scans, and there will be no tests.  
  
There will be an apology.  
  
“I didn’t mean to get hurt,” he says quietly, when Kyle cuts off the last of the thread to stitch him up and he’s beginning to feel better. He could call Max and get him to heal him, but it’s late and Michael wants to curl up around his boyfriends. “Thanks,” he says, first to Alex. “Even if you know I hate worried Valenti most of all. And thanks,” he adds, to Kyle, “for spending all that time learning how to be a part-time vet.”  
  
“Just don’t do it again,” Kyle insists.   
  
“Two against one,” Alex reminds Michael. “That means the motion is passed.”  
  
Sleepily, Michael smiles, content and warm, and lets them fuss over him to get him into bed. Their fingers are warm, their bodies make him feel safe, and two against one becomes a good thing all over again when it’s their bodies, keeping him safe, warm, and protected.  
  
*

It's not always safe and warm, not always easy, but they've grown prepared for the inevitable disasters that they face.  
  
It doesn't mean Michael  _likes_ them, but they're ready.  
  
Alex is miles away when the code red comes in. It’s been a disaster from the word go, pretty much as soon as they decided to split up and go to opposite sides of the large prison complex. Alex had sent Michael and Kyle to start investigating how far the fence out there reached while he worked on dismantling the alarm systems so they could get the files they needed out of the complex. They’d been at this for hours, which means that they were about two full miles from the main area with no car to get them back, and they hadn’t found  _anything_.  
  
So, of course, with their luck, that’s when the 911 text pings Kyle’s phone.  
  
“Alex is in trouble,” Kyle says sharply, cursing. “Fuck, he’s using one of the codes that means he’s in really deep shit.”  
  
It could just mean that he’s been caught, or maybe that he can see the guards on their rotation. It doesn’t necessarily mean that Alex is dead or dying, but that’s all Michael can think about. Panic swarms him, which is why he decides that this is a desperate situation, which calls for desperate measures.  
  
Prying off his hat, his t-shirt quickly follows. “Kyle, take the binders off,” he demands, even as his golden-hewn hawk-like wings fight the restraints, his muscles already struggling to move faster.  
  
“You’re not leaving me here, Guerin!”  
  
“Who said I was leaving anybody!” Michael snaps back at him, even as Kyle unsnaps the binders, bending down to pick up Michael’s shirt. He steps back so Michael can unfurl the wings, flapping them a few times to stretch them out, the tips of his wings expanding until they’re almost blocking the sun with their massive eight-foot wingspan.  
  
He’s done this exactly three times in his life.  
  
The first had been Isobel when they were little and experimenting. He’d been able to carry her around the backyard with a combination of his powers and the strength of his wings. She’d managed to take them up and down a little with her gossamer wings, but no more than that.  
  
The second time had been with Alex. He’d flown them away from Caulfield to avoid the alarms and escape before the building had gone up in smoke. He’d hovered them until the pain grew too bad and then he’d sent them crashing to the ground. Kyle had needed to patch them up for days before they were better.  
  
The third time is now. “Come on,” he says, coaxing Kyle in. “Hold tight,” he says, his eyes wide with panic and worry, even as Kyle wraps his arms around Michael’s midsection. He doesn’t say that he’s never done this before, maybe because Kyle is a good boyfriend and actually keeps track of these things and already knows.  
  
He does some mental math. Kyle and Alex are about the same size, with Kyle an inch shorter, but Alex had been missing his leg. He estimates exactly how much propulsion the wings can take care of and how much force he’ll need to add with his powers. Once he thinks he knows the balance of the equation, he closes his eyes to concentrate, wings flapping and building up the energy he needs.  
  
At first, they barely hover, mainly because Michael’s struggling to figure out the distribution of weight, but Kyle helps in wrapping his legs around Michael’s waist, his arms around his neck. “You’ve got this,” Kyle murmurs quietly. “Come on.”  
  
That’s all he needs.  
  
Two miles is covered in no time at all, not like this. Michael lands them with a few running steps on the roof of the complex, dropping hat and t-shirt on the roof as he storms into the building like an avenging angel, Kyle hot on his heels.  
  
“This way,” Kyle says, ducking past one of the wings to sprint down the hall, using the GPS of Alex’s phone to find him. Michael makes sure that not a single guard gets the chance to draw on Kyle before Michael uses his powers to send them flying to a wall.  
  
He’s going to hurt like  _fuck_  for this later, between the wings and the use of his powers.  
  
Kyle better be up for some wing massages, or Michael’s going to be bitching all night about the aches and pains. “Almost there, I think he’s in some kind of control room,” he says, and leads  It’s not like having wings comes with a homing beacon, though Alex has definitely suggested that they all get tracking chips.  
  
Michael had laughed about it until he’d realized how deathly serious he’d been, but it had been Kyle who’d come up with the compromise of using their phones (because Kyle’s always the one who figures out the midpoint, how to make everything work). It’s why he takes the lead, pushing past Michael when he says, “Here, he’s through here.”  
  
Then he’s bursting through, before Michael can even warn him to slow the fuck down. He follows Kyle into a control room, where he finds Alex in handcuffs, three guards with their guns on him.  
  
“Alex!” Kyle shouts, and Michael curses under his breath.  
  
Why the hell is Kyle so damn pretty, but so damn stupid sometimes?  
  
“What did we say about shouting at the bad guys?” Michael yells at him, and uses the last of his energy available to get the guns out of the guards’ hands. With the weapons off him, Alex moves. Even wearing a pair of handcuffs on, he manages to knock out two of the guards, and Kyle’s right-hook takes care of the last one.  
  
Kyle presses his heel to the guard’s chest while Alex bends down with his hands clenched together, backhanding the guard with a joy that Michael understands. It’s a rage that fills your soul, and he feels it  _all_  the time.  
  
“Are you okay?” Michael asks Alex, letting Kyle do the concerned doctor thing for himself and the worried boyfriend thing for the both of them. He hasn’t got the juice for it, not really, but he still makes himself unlock the handcuffs, watching them drop to the floor.  
  
He highly suspects that he’ll be following soon after.  
  
Alex nods, rubbing his wrists and letting Kyle fuss over him. “I’m fine,” he promises. “I managed to get the alert to you, but I think they only wanted me in custody. How’d you get back so fast?”  
  
“Someone flew us back,” Kyle says with a concerned look Michael’s way. Now that he’s done checking Alex’s vitals, it’s like he remembers everything that Michael’s done. “Shit,” he exhales. “I left all my acetone in the car. Michael…”  
  
He’s swimming in Michael’s view, which is probably a bad sign.  
  
“Don’t let Alex carry me,” Michael mumbles as the dark edges start to creep into his vision. And then, “all of Kyle’s cooking gave me a fat ass.”  
  
The dark swims into his vision and takes over, giving Michael a blissful respite from the overwhelming pain in his wings, hoping that Kyle actually listens and doesn’t let Alex try and carry him back.  
  
When he comes to, Alex is fanning him with a binder full of documents, Kyle has a flask of acetone pressed to his lips, and he’s lying horizontally in the backseat of Kyle’s truck. That means they dragged him out here to safety and to recuperate and seeing as Alex isn’t massaging his leg in pain, it almost looks like they listened to Michael and made Kyle carry him. His shirt is back on, along with the binders, but his wings ache like mad. Turning over onto his stomach, he uses his powers to unclip the binders again, breathing with relief when the pain fades away.  
  
“I’m guessing that you need Massage Therapist Kyle tonight?”  
  
“Look how smart you are,” Michael mumbles into the cushioning of the backseat. “Can we please go home, now? I’m not used to being a discount airline and it really takes the energy out of me.”  
  
He can’t see them, but Michael knows his boyfriends well enough to know the amused eyeroll they’re probably sharing over him at his expense. He’d be mad about it, but that kind of thing takes energy and he’s used up more than enough of that today.  
  
Alex slides his fingers through his feathers, pressing a kiss to Michael’s temple. He moves to the driver’s seat, leaving Kyle to squeeze one of the pressure points in the wings that he knows alleviates the tension and pain.  
  
Michael moans loudly as it sends momentary relief through him.  
  
“Best flight I’ve ever taken,” Kyle promises. “No peanuts, though. You should really think about catering.”  
  
“I’ll give you some nuts to suck on,” Michael mutters, flipping him the bird, but Kyle takes it in stride as he laughs his way into the passenger seat. He’d be angrier with him, but Kyle’s making promises to give him a full massage when they get back home, and Alex bans him from using his powers for two days until he feels better.  
  
It’s hard being mad at your boyfriends when they’re being so damn sweet to you.  
  
Hell, it’s almost worth risking his life to save them.  
  
(Who’s he kidding, it’s  _always_  worth that, no matter whether he walks, runs, or  _flies_  to do it)


	25. michael leaves roswell, not alex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Instead of Alex leaving Roswell, it was Michael leaving. Ten years later, they bump into each other outside of Roswell.

“We can’t both stay here.”  
  
It’s the most depressing thing that Alex has ever heard in his life, but he knows it’s true. If they both stay, then Jesse’s wrath will manifest worse than it ever has. Something else has happened to Michael, but Alex can’t figure it out. All that he knows is whatever’s changed, it’s led to this.   
  
Their paths, parting at seventeen. That future that he’d dreamed about, so briefly, is all but gone. Alex had looked at every option to get away, but every time he’d gotten close to signing the papers to enlist with the Air Force, it feels so much like he’s giving in to his father that the prideful and stubborn part of him resists.   
  
He can’t do it.   
  
Alex had been on his way to tell Michael that he couldn’t make himself sign the papers, but his truck isn’t at the junkyard. Max hasn’t seen him, and Isobel is withdrawn and exhausted. “I’m not sure he wants me to tell you.”  
  
Translated, that means,  _I’m pretty sure he knows you’d go after him_.  
  
Alex knows that they’d both agreed that they couldn’t stay in Roswell together, but he’d never imagined a version of this where it would be Michael who left him behind. It hurts more than he thought it ever could, but he also knows that he’s not going to be the kind of stalker ex-boyfriend who can’t leave things alone. They’re separated for a reason and it’s not because they don’t love one another, but because this is how they stay safe.   
  
So be it.   
  
Alex might still be in Roswell, but that doesn’t mean his life is over.   
  
If anything, things get a lot better when his brothers and father all ship out on their varying assignments and Alex is the only one left in Roswell. For the first time in his adult life, he’s able to thrive and grow and build a life for himself.  
  
He signs up with an online college and works as a bartender for Mimi and Maria at the Pony to pay his tuition, allowing him to graduate without any debt.   
  
Even though he has no idea whether Michael kept his phone, Alex sends the occasional text update to let him know how he’s doing, though he never gets a reply. Maybe it’s too hard for Michael to think about Alex like that or maybe he’d moved on. Maybe he just doesn’t have his phone anymore.   
  
Whatever the reason, Alex does his best to forget about Michael Guerin and focuses on his life. Every few months, Jesse returns to the base nearby and Alex is reminded of why they’re separated in the place, which is only hammered home (as dark as it is to think that way) when Jesse comments how good it is that he’d never had to take things further to dissuade Alex’s “perversions”.  
  
So he keeps learning and he keeps thinking about the day he gets Max to tell him the full truth of where Michael had gone. One day, he’s going to step out from his father’s shadow.  
  
Unfortunately, it hasn’t happened yet, but Alex keeps dreaming of the day when it will.   
  
*  
  
Ten years later, they’re setting up for his talk in Albuquerque, and Alex thinks about how depressing it is that this is the furthest that he’s travelled from Roswell in ten years. He hasn’t needed to go anywhere. The software that he’d developed meant that he could work from home. He’d spent years perfecting the coding that helped veterans by pairing them with people that could help them with hobbies, services, and other ways to help them get back into their lives at home. It had performed well enough that Alex could live comfortably on his own, with enough independence that he could do anything he wanted.  
  
He just never found a reason to leave Roswell.  
  
That said, when UNM invites him to come talk to the computer engineering program about the structure he’d used, he leaps at the chance.  
  
It’s not exactly a trip to Paris, but it’s far enough away that it feels like an adventure. It feels good to talk about something he feels so passionate about and better than that, it’s something he’s good at.  
  
By the time he’s finished, he still has the auditorium’s full attention and the confidence boost he gets from that is a wild and strong thing.   
  
”Any questions?” he asks, feeling like it’s gone over incredibly well. The first few questions are about the software and how he’d coded it, which are easy to answer, but remind him of how proud he is of his creation.  
  
Then comes one he hadn’t been expecting at all; a question he’s not even sure he knows  _how_ to answer.  
  
“Do you ever regret not leaving Roswell?”  
  
Alex freezes on stage while he tries to locate the source of that question. There, a few feet to the left of the front row, is Michael Guerin. He hasn’t seen him in ten years, but he’s as gorgeous and larger-than-life as ever.   
  
“Sometimes,” he hears himself saying, out loud. “At the time when I started my business, I thought I had all the answers and that honoring an agreement I made was the safe choice.” He hasn’t let his gaze move from Michael’s face. “Sometimes, I think about the path I didn’t take, though and the people that left me behind to fulfill their own dreams and I think about the alternate realities that could have been lived.”  
  
He swallows back the more intimate details of that answer, grateful when someone asks about his plans to roll out the next update of the app.  
  
It allows him to delve into the more technological details and try and forget the fact that Michael Guerin is here, under the same roof as him, breathing the same air, sharing the same matter.  
  
That turns out to be pretty hard to ignore.   
  
He answers a few more questions before the lecture is closed and the students are sent on their way. Not all of them are in a rush to go, and a few linger to shake his hand and commend him on the lecture, but even that isn’t enough to distract him from Michael, lurking just behind them.  
  
Finally, they’re alone.   
  
“What are you doing here?” Alex asks, when the door clangs shut and gives them a little privacy.  
  
“What,” Michael asks, his eyes roaming over Alex, “I make sure that you get a chance to speak about your revolutionary software and you wanna know why I’m here to see you give it?”  
  
That’s news to him.   
  
“Wait, you…what?”  
  
Michael glances to the side, running a hand through his hair sheepishly. “I’m a professor here,” he admits, and that steals Alex’s breath away. All these years and Michael’s only been a few hours away from him. “Recently, I’ve been doing some thinking. With Liz back in town and Max playing lovesick puppy, it made me think about us. I should never have left my phone behind with Isobel.”  
  
Does it make it better, knowing that Michael had never got any of his texts?   
  
Ten years is a long time to be apart from the man he loves.  
  
“It is pretty hard to watch Max and Liz,” Alex agrees with a laugh. “You didn’t even come back for the reunion.”   
  
“I knew if I did, I couldn’t stop myself from trying to win you back and I didn’t know if the threat’s out of the way.” He’s chewing at the pad of his thumb, a worried look as he looks at Alex. “Look, I know that I have no right to ask you this, but do you wanna grab coffee with me before you head back to Roswell? It doesn’t have to mean anything, it can just be coffee.”  
  
Alex searches Michael’s face and tries to dredge up those old feelings of anger or abandonment, but he doesn’t find any of them.   
  
“Or,” Alex offers, heart pounding in his chest, “you could come back to my place in Roswell. I brew a mean cup of coffee and you haven’t seen my new place.” It’s a bold offer and a daring one after ten years, but it still feels right.  
  
“I take it milky,” Michael says, his eyes locked on him. “How’s Friday?”  
  
“I can make that work.”  
  
*

Even though Alex had been the one to suggest it, he still can’t believe that he’s driving to a coffee shop to meet Michael. He’d offered to drive back to Albuquerque, but Michael had quickly nixed that idea by insisting that Alex is in the middle of starting up his own company and it’s exam season, which means he has no lessons to plan.  
  
Alex is shocked because he’s still amazed this is happening.  
  
Ten years ago when they’d decided to part ways to try and get over the trauma that had infiltrated their lives, Alex thought that he’d never get another shot with Michael, but one Q&A session at UNM later and he’s meeting him at the local coffee shop for a cup of coffee and what Alex thinks might actually be a first date.  
  
When he gets there, Michael is already sitting at a nearby table, looking incredible. He’s wearing an oversized burgundy sweater, his collarbones slightly peeking out because it’s too big. Alex hopes it doesn’t belong to an ex-boyfriend or something equally worrying, but he lets himself into the coffee shop and greets him.  
  
Should he hug him? Do you kiss? What’s the protocol when you’re having coffee with the love of your life for the first time in ten years.  
  
“Hey, Alex,” Michael greets him, and pushes himself to his feet. He makes the decision that Alex can’t when he sidesteps around the table to press a kiss to Alex’s cheek. His lips linger there, Alex breathes out softly, and then they take their seats. “I can’t believe this is happening,” Michael confesses with a laugh, reaching for his latte to gulp it back.  
  
“You and me both,” Alex says bluntly. He doesn’t leave the table, because there’s a coffee sitting right in front of his seat. When he looks at it, he shoots Michael a confused look, wrapping his palm around it to feel the warmth against his fingertips. “Is this…”  
  
“Skinny latte,” Michael says. “I mean, I know it’s been ten years and I only heard you order it the once, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget what you said to Valenti when he mocked you for ordering it.”  
  
Alex smirks, because who could forget that day. “Right,” he says with a laugh, “when he asked if I was watching my figure and I said yeah, I was, because I didn’t want a fat ass like his,” he finishes, his grin so big it aches.  
  
“You didn’t see it, but he went to the gym so early the next morning.”

Alex gives Michael a confused look. “How do you know?”  
  
Michael shrugs, sipping his coffee. “I was still living in my truck and I parked it at school. Heard his truck come rumbling up at five in the morning, he didn’t leave the gym until seven. I think you really rattled his poor self-esteem.”  
  
Alex ducks his head down, but his smile is tempered with the hurt of ten long years. It’s never easy to forget what happened that day in the shed, not to mention their agreement to part ways because it would be better for the both of them. Yet, here they are, ten years later and all grown up. Alex isn’t under his father’s thumb and he’s got his own business.  
  
Michael has a job and he looks settled and happy, even if there’s the shadow of what happened all those years ago lingering over hi head.  
  
“Do you remember…” Alex starts, and focuses on only reliving the good moments.  
  
It works. For hours, they reminisce about the good. Michael tells Alex about his time at UNM as a student and how he’d been that student that had found a comfort zone for the first time in his life, making a home of it. Alex talks about years of struggling to figure out who he was and what he wanted to do.  
  
Neither of them talk about how much they missed one another, but it’s there, lingering unspoken beneath the whole conversation. They talk until the coffee shop closes down, and even then, Alex isn’t sure he wants to go home.  
  
At least, not without Michael.  
  
Outside the coffee shop, Alex isn’t ready for the night to be over. “Do you want to come back to my cabin?” he asks, when Michael takes a few halting steps away from him. It’s almost like he’s deliberately moving too slowly, like he doesn’t want the night to be over, either.  
  
“Give me the directions and I’m there.”  
  
Alex feels his heart beating faster, and he spends the entire drive back to the cabin watching Michael’s headlights behind him. It’s like he’s Orpheus, but he’d be pretty shitty at it, because he doesn’t think he stops looking back the whole time, his attention fixed in the mirror to make sure he doesn’t lose Michael again.  
  
Once was long enough and a decade’s been too long to be without him.  
  
When they arrive, he waits on the porch while Michael parks, twirling his keyring around his finger. In the moonlight, Michael looks almost ethereal as he walks towards Alex, the porchlight lighting him up. For a moment, Alex thinks that Michael might keep walking towards him and kiss him, but then he comes to a stop, so close that Alex can feel Michael’s constant heat beside him.  
  
“You want something to drink?” he offers, heart in his throat.  
  
“Yeah,” Michael agrees, “You got beer?”  
  
Alex uses the distraction to calm himself down, pressing the cool can to the back of his neck. It’s not enough to chill him all the way down, but it’s enough to give him some patience, returning and pressing the beer into Michael’s hand. Alex settles on one side of the couch, then Michael takes the other, kicking his feet up, toes curling in his socks, barely brushing Alex’s thigh.  
  
“This okay…?”  
  
Alex nods wordlessly and rapidly, not sure he would even argue if it weren’t.  
  
“So, I looked into your software,” Michael admits, when they’re sprawled out on Alex’s couch. “I think I get it, but I kind of want to hear you explain it.” He’s sideways, taking up all the room, as if he can’t sit on the couch normally.  
  
It’s frustrating and endearing all at the same time.  
  
Alex reaches for his phone to dig it out, struggling to explain it to him. Michael’s a genius, he knows that, but he’s been working on this project for so long that it’s become coding to him and little more. “I guess it’s a little like Tinder meets Uber?” he admits, and shuffles forward to the edge of his seat as he brings up the app. “Here, look, I’ll bring up my test profile.”  
  
Michael shifts too, and that means that they’re inching closer together, like their personal gravities are pulling them in towards one another.  
  
“Okay, so, I’ll put in the things in my profile that I want to do,” he explains, and shifts a little so that he’s pressed flush against Michael when he shows him. “I put in coffee, since we just did that. Now, I’ll add…” He goes silent as he works to find the activities he’s after. He plugs in the hot air balloon ride, then the dinner on a rooftop bar, finishing with the coffee.  
  
The little dot representing him starts to ping with an offer in the beta environment and Alex beams proudly as he shows it to Michael.  
  
“There I am,” he says. “What would normally happen now is that you’d get someone in our system, fully vetted and checked, who would look at the needs of the veteran whether it’s a physical disability or a mental issue, and sign up for the task. It’s volunteer only right now, but I’ve been debating some paid staff,” he admits, laughing when Michael starts poking at the screen. “What are you doing?”  
  
“I’m accepting,” Michael says, and taps a few more times. “I can do that, right?”  
  
“You can’t accept your own requests,” he says, the tips of his ears going red as he goes to another screen. “Is your email the one you gave me to set up tonight?”  
  
Michael nods his confirmation, which is good because Alex is already midway through setting up Michael’s profile. Another two minutes and he’s got it ready to go, the ping from Michael’s phone alerting him that it’s done. Alex nods towards his jeans, giving him an encouraging nod to get it.  
  
“I gave you a profile in the test environment,” Alex says. “So now you can accept.”  
  
Michael pulls out his phone, swiping through the set-up steps and taps on Alex’s tasks to do exactly that. He pulls up the dinner one first, and in full view, clicks ‘YES’ before typing on his phone. He says nothing at all, and then Alex’s phone pings to show him a message.  
  
_Friday, 9PM?  
_  
“That’s exactly what you’d do,” Alex praises, and tucks his phone away, glad that Michael seems to understand it. “I know that it’s a lot of work and it might not amount to anything, but I watched my brothers adjusting when they got back from overseas and it was hell. Sometimes, all they needed was a friend, even if they’d never met before that day. I wanted to do what I could.”  
  
“It’s amazing, Alex,” Michael insists. “But uh, you didn’t answer my question.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Dinner? 9PM? Albuquerque?”  
  
Alex’s eyes widen as he realizes that Michael hadn’t been going through the motions. He’s using Alex’s own software to try and pick him up for a date. The smile on his face actually aches, but he logs in to his profile to pull up Michael’s offer.  
  
Without taking his eyes off of Michael, he clicks,  _Accept_.  
  
“Good,” Michael breathes with relief, and relaxes his feet in Alex’s lap. “Cuz I don’t put on the first date and I need to shore up my chances here,” he jokes, which makes Alex’s heart pound even faster, but he slides his phone away with the knowledge that they can end tonight knowing that they have another date coming up.  
  
*  
  
The drive up to Albuquerque has Alex riddled with nerves. He feels like he ought to have been more nervous before he’d given his speech, but no. It’s this. It’s driving up to meet Michael for dinner, picking him up on the campus where he’s packing up from his class. Alex ducks his head around the corner to collect him, but class is still in session.  
  
Michael’s in a frantic rush to end it, though. He’s wearing a suit jacket and tie, pacing around his desk, hands flying everywhere (and a briefcase in one of them). “Remember, I need those modules handed in next Tuesday! No, shit, next Wednesday. Fuck!”  
  
Some of the students in the first-row titter with laughter. “Are you okay, Dr. Guerin?”  
  
Michael presses a hand over his face and Alex bites his lip, hiding his amusement as he settles into a chair in the very last row, sinking as low as he can get so Michael doesn’t spot him. When Michael pries his hand off his face, there’s a rueful smile on his lips, but the look in his eyes is  _magical_.  
  
“I have a date,” he shares with the class.  
  
Alex knows he’s old when the ‘ooooooh’ that goes up around the room makes him roll his eyes.  
  
“Okay, all right, assholes,” Michael complains with a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, your professor has a date.”  
  
“Who is it?” calls one of the boys, even as Michael’s packing up his bag.  
  
He clearly wants to get out of there as fast as he can, but the kids aren’t going to let him. Honestly, Alex is all for letting this draw out as long as it can, because he’s loving seeing the way Michael is so nervous. It’s a switch, considering the first time they’d reunited, Alex had been the nervous one on a stage at UNM.  
  
“If any of you turn up and stalk me on this date, I’m auto-failing you,” Michael warns.  
  
“C’mon, Prof. Is it the hot librarian?”  
  
“The one who’s in a committed relationship with her girlfriend?” Michael says dubiously, but he’s leaning against the table at the front, arms crossed over his chest, and there’s an amused look on his face like he’s entertaining the idea of letting this happen. “Try again.”  
  
The students lean together and whisper. When Michael’s gaze slides around the room, Alex sinks even further into his seat to avoid being seen.  
  
“You gotta tell us which team you’re swinging for tonight, Prof!”  
  
“Do I, though?” Michael replies with a smirk.  
  
It’s cute that Michael thinks he’s going to get away with this, and maybe he would have, but he can see students pulling out their phones and going to Michael’s social media accounts. Alex knows for a fact that while nothing there is incriminating, there is absolutely a comment from him on Michael’s picture from today (him choosing his jacket, and given the softness of the suede jacket he’s wearing, he chose right).  
  
“Who’s Alex Manes?”  
  
Michael’s eyes widen in alarm, like he hasn’t been expecting it. “What?”  
  
“He commented on your post today,” the girl keeps going, showing the phone. Alex had left the comment during a gas station break, so there’s every chance that Michael hasn’t seen it yet. “Says that he can’t wait to see if touching that jacket is as soft as it looks. Is he the one who’s gonna be touching you tonight, Prof?”  
  
The tips of Michael’s ears go red, and Alex hides his laugh, because he’s so caught.  
  
“All right, all of you, out! Out of here!” He grimaces, shaking his head and muttering something Alex can’t hear about social media. The students are laughing as they go, amused by their professor’s plight, but Alex finds it absolutely endearing to see how shaken up Michael is.  
  
It bodes well for tonight.  
  
He waits until every last student is out of the class before standing, watching Michael click the clasps of his briefcase shut. “You ended class early for me?” he calls, and takes an obscene amount of joy in the way Michael physically jumps. Alex ducks out of the row and starts to walk down the auditorium steps. “The syllabus says this runs from seven to ten, but it’s eight-thirty…”  
  
“I have a date,” Michael replies, and he might be trying to hide his grin, but he’s doing a shitty job of it. His eyes follow Alex with every step, and that bodes well for how the night is going to end. “How long have you been sitting there?”  
  
“Long enough to hear that you’re kind of nervous,” Alex teases, coming to a stop when he’s on even standing with Michael. “I hear that your date’s pretty excited too. I wouldn’t worry,” he says, smooth and hopefully charming.  
  
Michael lets his gaze slide over Alex, reaching out to brush his fingers against the leather jacket he’s wearing. “This is a nice choice.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Alex agrees. “But don’t think you’re getting out of me touching that jacket of yours,” he warns. “I’ve been thinking about it all drive up here.”  
  
Michael exhales, but it catches in his throat, a tiny strangled exhalation there on his lips. “I guess we’ll have to see how the night plays out, won’t we?”  
  
Dinner is  _incredible_ , the best Alex has ever had. He does get to fondle the suit jacket, fingers sliding all over the soft suede when he grabs Michael for a kiss outside the restaurant when they’ve settled up the bill. When they make out in Michael’s car later, he has to rank dinner behind it, but waking up the next morning in Michael’s apartment after a night relearning one another’s bodies and how they move and work together quickly dominates every other experience they’ve had so far.  
  
“You don’t have to go back to Roswell today, right?” Michael asks, between kisses on their lazy Saturday morning.  
  
“Nice thing about being a tech genius,” Alex murmurs, grabbing Michael by the shoulders to roll them so that he’s under Alex. “I can work wherever I want.”  
  
Not that he plans to do much work today, but Alex isn’t going  _anywhere_.  
  
*  
  
It’s been a long week and Alex is looking forward to coming home to their Albuquerque townhome to rest and relax. It’s been theirs for two years, ever since they’d decided to move in together (and Alex had decided to expand and move his offices into town). He’s been working essentially two jobs with the app expanding, while also trying to covertly get information on aliens.  
  
Aliens, he thinks, because his boyfriend is an alien, and his father hunts them. That’s really not exactly why he thought that they’d needed to part ways all those years back, but at least they know now. He’s in the middle of prying off his shoes, giving the arches of his feet a quick massage in the front hallway when he hears his phone alerting him that he’s got a new task offer in the beta version of his app.  
  
Frowning, he digs out his app and looks at the beta environment. There’s a new task waiting for him, right on top of the apartment in a glowing blue dot.  
  
_Hot Air Balloon Ride_ , it reads.  _And a picnic_  
  
Michael slides his way around the doorframe, giving Alex a hopeful look as he raises one of his brows. “You wanna go for a ride?” he offers, his tongue lasciviously sliding over his lower lip as he looks Alex over.  
  
Blushing at the look and trying not to, Alex drops his bag. He’s exhausted, but how could he deny Michael’s hopeful look (not to mention the implication that there’s already a hot air balloon rented somewhere), so he clicks  _Accept_.  
  
Michael’s grin is so wide that Alex can’t not kiss him, so he drifts forward to cup his neck and press a kiss there. “You’re massaging my feet later,” is all he warns, “I’ve been running around all day with the app.”  
  
“I know, yeah, it’s fine,” Michael says dismissively, and yanks him along frantically.  
  
Alex yelps, not sure what the rush is, but Michael’s enthusiasm is catching. He lets him tug him towards the car, loaded up with a picnic basket, and watches as a hot air balloon in the distance starts to loom closer by the second. It’s almost sunset, which means that they’ll be up in the air to watch the sun go down.  
  
It is, plain and simple, romantic as hell.  
  
Alex thought he couldn’t be more in love, but Michael’s really challenging that assumption. “Your chariot awaits,” Michael says, once he’s got the picnic basket in the hot air balloon, helping Alex inside.  
  
He’s never done this before, even though he knows this is a  _thing_  in New Mexico, but he’s still not anticipating the lift as they start rising into the air with the help of a technician. Alex grabs at Michael to steady himself, laughing at his unease, but he settles when he gets the hang of the rocking and the awareness that the only thing keeping them up is a heat source.  
  
Once they’re stabilized in the sky, Michael gets on his phone for a second to type something, sliding it in his pocket (with his hand over it), before he drifts in to Alex’s side, wrapping an arm around his shoulder to bring him in close where they can watch the sunset together.  
  
“Michael, this is beautiful,” he raves, turning a soft gaze on Michael as he leans in to kiss him, tangling his fingers through Michael’s curls to brush at them with his thumb, cautious and careful as he squeezes and pulls Michael in for a deeper kiss, eager to get as much as he can before his gaze is stolen by the beautiful plateaus and horizons.  
  
Alex lets out a protesting noise when he’s distracted from the kiss by the pinging of his phone.  
  
“I think you should get that,” Michael suggests when Alex eases back to stare at his pocket, looking oddly calm and collected considering he’s trying to tell Alex to  _check his phone_  in the middle of a romantic date.  
  
Alex opens his mouth to protest, because it’d be rude as hell for him to get his phone in the middle of a beautiful sunset overlooking New Mexico, but Michael has that weirdly fixated look that means that he needs to do it or Michael won’t let it go.  
  
He does love his boyfriend, but sometimes, he’s reminded of these odd eccentricities that makes Michael so… _unique_.  
  
When he pulls up his phone, he finds a notification.  
  
There’s a new task waiting for him.  
  
“Go on,” Michael encourages, and now it looks like he’s starting to get nervous. Alex eyes him, and pulls up the message so he can stare at it, taking his attention off of Michael as he plugs in his password to log in to the test environment that only he and Michael have ever used, mainly to arrange dates.  
  
This time, it’s not a date or a location, not a time or a place.  
  
It reads:  _Marry me?_  
  
When Alex glances up, he sees that Michael’s on one knee, holding out an engagement ring (a fucking engagement ring, holy shit), and he actually can’t believe this is happening.  
  
“Of course I’ll marry you,” Alex says, hitting ‘yes’ about three dozen times on the phone, even dropping it to the floor of the basket of the hot air balloon as Michael rises to his feet, takes hold of his face to kiss him, hips rocking against him and changing the balance of the balloon to the point that it dips and sways.  
  
Alex’s stomach gives out with excitement and fear, which is absolutely perfect for this very moment.  
  
_Task accepted_ , reads his screen from his phone, facing up from the bottom of the balloon.  
  
The smiley face that displays as a result of that task is nowhere near as happy as it should be, not for this task. Alex might have to change that, but that’s something for later. Right now, he’s got a lot of kissing with his fiancé that he needs to do.


	26. the foster parent confrontration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Michael run into one of Michael's old set of foster parents.

“Babe,” Michael mumbles, head bent down to scratch items off their shopping list, “can you grab some tortillas? I’m pretty sure we’re out and I wanted to make some enchiladas this week.”  
  
There’s no response from Alex.  
  
Michael frowns, glancing up from where he’s been gnawing on the pen, seeing where Alex’s attention has fixed. It’s like someone’s hit a light switch. Instantly, his mood drops when he sees the O’Reilly’s down the aisle. Even though it’s been over fifteen years since he’d been under their religious fanatic roof, they’ve barely changed.  
  
That crucifix still rests large and looming against a string on her neck. He still looks like it would kill him to smile.   
  
“Hey,” Michael speaks up, roughly, knowing that this won’t end well. They shouldn’t have come to this side of town to grocery shop, but Michael had insisted since they had the brands he liked. He hadn’t counted on the fact that it was also the shop closest to their ranch.   
  
After he had told Alex everything about his past, Alex had quickly gone to work creating the database of information on Michael’s past. “Names,” had been his curt demand at the time.   
  
It’s why there are folders in a filing cabinet in their study of all of Michael’s shitty foster parents. The ones in Albuquerque and Santa Fe, they run little risk of running into, but there’s always been a chance that they’d run into the O’Reilly family.   
  
Michael feels sick, the way he always had when he’d get home and find a priest or a nun sitting on the couch, waiting for him so they could talk about how he was possessed by the devil and they had to cleanse him of his sins.   
  
“Alex,” Michael pleads, quietly. “Let’s get out of here.”  
  
“No,” Alex replies firmly.   
  
Michael’s reaching for him in order to try and get him to stop whatever he’s planning to do. Normally, Michael is all about a fight, but brawling with his old, shitty foster parents in a grocery store is the kind of thing that gets you arrested and Michael really doesn’t want to deal with that today.  
  
Unfortunately, Alex has other priorities.  
  
“Babe, please…”  
  
It’s no use.  
  
Alex slides out of Michael’s grip, leaving the grocery cart with him and heading after them to follow them down the aisles, stalking behind them like a predator deciding when to make his move. Michael, full of fear that’s been beat into him, stays even further away. He might be a grown man and he might have worse wounds, but that doesn’t mean he wants to give these two a chance to reopen any of the old ones.  
  
“Hey!” he hears Alex snap. “Mr. and Mrs. O’Reilly.”  
  
“Yes, dear?” she replies, sounding sweet as apple pie. She’d always been sweet, right up until the door closed and she got  _so_  disappointed about the fact that she had to punish him for the demons living inside of him, which gave him powers at night and sinful lustful feelings for other boys during the day.  
  
From where Michael has hidden, he can lean forward and see what’s happening while hiding behind a giant display of condiments. He’s safe, thanks to the ketchup, to see the bitter smile Alex gives, the one where he looks like he’s about to spit acid.  
  
“I wanted to come and talk to you,” Alex says. “You fostered a child, about fifteen years ago,” he goes on.  
  
“We fostered many children,” Mr. O’Reilly replies, flat and without affect.  
  
“I kind of hope that you didn’t foster them the way you did Michael,” Alex keeps going. Michael can see the way they rear back, just slightly, and he knows that it hadn’t been all the kids who got the treatment he did. Most of the other kids knew how to learn their lesson and shut up and behave.  
  
Michael had always been too stubborn for that.   
  
“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” Alex is hissing, trying to keep his voice down like he gives a shit about decorum. Michael keeps holding himself back from joining in, because he’s not entirely sure what he’ll do it he gets up close and personal with these particular demons from his childhood.  
  
He thinks he might scream or shout, but he also thinks it’s every bit as likely that he’d break down, so it’s for the best that he stays out of the way. Still, as he holds onto the shelf and listens to Alex, he has to keep himself from getting involved.  
  
“He was a kid!” Alex snaps. “An innocent child and you thought he had a demon in him. You should have helped him, not hurt him like that. When I have kids, I  _pray_  that I’m nothing like you, that I’ll give them unconditional love, no matter if they’re different.”  
  
Wait.  
  
 _When_?  
  
When he has kids?  
  
Michael finds himself blinking in shock, not sure that he thought they were at the point in their relationship where trips to group homes were on the weekend plans, but apparently Alex has been getting ahead of him. He can see the O’Reillys’ blathering and trying to explain, but Alex is clearly done with them.  
  
“You’re only lucky that I don’t have the evidence to turn you in,” is his icy reply.   
  
He leans over and grabs a can of tuna in his palm, giving them both a careful look, like he’s appraising him.  
  
“I hope you aren’t repeating old tricks. I’d hate to find something,” he says in parting, and walks confidently away from them, almost bumping right into Michael when he rounds the corner, blinking at him with surprise to find him there. “Michael, shit, I almost ran you over. Are you okay? Did you hear that?”  
  
He should thank Alex for being a sexy badass, he should tell him that they need to get out of there, and he should go pick up some more booze for when he inevitably tries to drink this whole experience away.   
  
Instead, he asks: “When you have kids?”  
  
Alex blushes, slightly, and shrugs as he puts the tuna in the cart. “I know we haven’t exactly talked about it, but I always figured that one day, you and I would be foster parents. If anyone knows what those kids actually deserve in a home when it comes to love and affection, it’s us, right?”  
  
He’s absolutely not wrong. It’s just not something that Michael had ever considered.  
  
Michael slides his palm over Alex’s neck and drifts forward until they’re swaying in the grocery store, their foreheads pressed together. Every few seconds, Michael leans in for a kiss, not caring about any disgusted snorts or scoffs he hears from Roswell’s finest around them.   
  
The only person in the world that matters – the bravest, the strongest, the kindest – is in his arms. “Thank you,” he murmurs, because he’s been waiting to say that since Alex first stormed over to defend Michael. “Thank you for having hope in our future, for wanting to defend my past.”  
  
“You should just be glad it wasn’t the meth heads,” Alex mumbles into the next kiss, eyes half-shut and his lips warm, “because them? I do have evidence against and I’ve been waiting for an excuse to get one set of your shitty foster parents behind bars where they belong.”  
  
“Well,” Michael quips. “We could always take a road trip.”  
  
The laugh he earns from Alex is sweet and warm and when they check out, the O’Reillys are long gone. Even if they were still there, it wouldn’t have mattered, because Alex would have made Michael feel safe and secure. He’s not thirteen anymore and they can’t control him. They won’t ever get to control him like that again.   
  
He’s made sure of that.  
  
“Come on.” Michael encourages, hefting up the bags. “Let’s get the grill going and you can tell me all about these foster kids you’ve been thinking about.”  
  
Maybe that’s the lesson in all of us. Maybe it’s not about Michael’s past at all or reliving those awful days, but taking them and learning how to make the lives of other kids better in the future. With Alex at his side? There’s no doubt they’ll be able to do it.


	27. michael meets the mom-in-law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex takes Michael to meet his mother; Kyle's just along for the ride.

“I don’t know about this.”  
  
Alex glances to the passenger side of the car, trying to surreptitiously check that the locks of the car are on for the fourth time. After all, the last thing he needs is Michael tucking and rolling out of the car because he’s panicking. “Michael,” he sighs, glancing in the rearview mirror. “How come you’re not helping?” he demands, of Valenti. “What are you even here for?”  
  
“The entertainment, mostly,” Valenti quips.    
  
Michael is in the middle of what might be an actual panic attack and Valenti is about to eat popcorn. Alex pinches the bridge of his nose and wonders what he did to deserve this, never mind that he’d been the one to actually request this happen.   
  
It’s Mother’s Day and after the disastrous events at Caulfield two years ago and everything that’s happened since, Alex didn’t think it would be smart to leave Michael alone on the day.  
  
Maybe he’s just trying to fool everyone. Maybe it’s because Alex is going to visit his mother in person for the first time in years, because after he’d called her to ask about Jesse’s habits, she’d ended the call saying that he should come see her sometime.  
  
He’d made a promise and now he intends to keep it.   
  
It feels like if he doesn’t, it’s not only him making his mother upset, but somehow undermining Michael as well, who’ll never get a chance to visit his mother again, thanks to Jesse Manes’ legacy. The very least Alex can do is offer him something else, even if it’s second best.  
  
His mother lives out in the middle of nowhere, off the grid. Alex had helped erase her information so that certain people (specifically his father) couldn’t find her once he got old enough and had tracked her down.  
  
She’d explained it wasn’t the boys she wanted to hide from, but Jesse.   
  
They’ve been talking lately and he’d mentioned wanting to introduce her to his boyfriend, which she had eventually come around to. Alex suspects that she’s anticipating another military boy, someone that reminds her of Jesse. She’s going to be so damn surprised.  
  
“Michael,” Alex says, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “It’s okay. She’s gonna love you. You’re nothing like anyone I was around growing up. That’ll do it alone.”  
  
“So, be the anti-Manes?” Kyle quips.  
  
Alex raises both brows and shrugs, because, “Yeah. Kind of.”  
  
That seems to relax Michael a little. Alex isn’t so sure that he’s as relaxed, but he’s burying it down deep. He’s never brought anyone home and it’s for obvious reasons with his father, but with his mother, it almost felt like cowardice. Not bringing Michael or anyone else felt like he could keep his heart safe in the process.  
  
He’s not so sure he wants safe, now.   
  
Pulling into a long, winding driveway, he knows that there’s no turning around at this point. They’re here and his mother is expecting them. To leave now would be an act of cowardice so grand, so awful, so terrifying that he suspects he’d have to go months without speaking to his mother as a consequence.  
  
Besides, he wants her to meet Michael.  
  
The three most important people in the world to him are within a mile of each other right now – mother, boyfriend, best friend – and Alex has never felt safer or more panicked at the same time.   
  
“Okay,” Alex says, and parks the car. “We’re here.”  
  
Here goes nothing.   
  
*  
  
When Alex is making his way to the porch of the little bungalow, Michael weighs the merits of running away. He’d have to live off the land in the desert, sure, but then he won’t have to worry about being a disappointment to anyone’s mother (especially seeing as he doesn’t even have a shot of being with his own).  
  
Of course, there’s one looming doctor-shaped issue in his way.  
  
“Don’t even think about it,” Valenti warns, like somehow he’s learning mind-reading tricks from Isobel.  
  
“What? I was just…” Michael trails off, when he hears low voices at the porch. He straightens up his posture, aware that he’s not going to get out of this, and if that’s the case, then he needs to make sure he doesn’t fuck this up.  
  
Michael Guerin, Earner of Parent’s Trust isn’t a trait that he ever thought he’d possess, but for Alex, he’s got to try.   
  
“You were just debating running away. I’m pretty sure that’s why I’m here. Got to make sure you don’t make a break for it.”   
  
He’s lurking back here because he doesn’t think that he can muster up the courage to get over there until Alex either deliberately drags him or his presence is requested. “I’m not exactly the kind of guy mothers like.” It’s an understatement. Michael’s not the kind of guy any parents like, from his interaction with adults as a kid.  
  
Valenti clearly isn’t impressed by his little ‘woe is me’ parade.   
  
”You know how hard it is for him to come out here and face her. It only happens when something is important,” Valenti says. “He doesn’t like bothering her, but ever since Caulfield, I swear, he brings this up on a weekly basis. He’s always asking me if I think you two should come out here and look. It’s mother’s day and he wants to spend it with you and with her.”  
  
”Also, you,” Michael feels compelled to point out.  
  
”Yeah, notice how I’m the one talking you off the ledge? Alex knew he’d need the backup,” Valenti boasts. “Is this about your Mom?”  
  
They really, really,  _really_  don’t talk about this often, but Valenti knows the gist of what happened in that prison. He knows that Michael had lost his family that day and that his mother had been one of them. What’s been weird, honestly, is the fact that Valenti gets it.  
  
After all, they both lost parents to Caulfield.   
  
”I don’t want to think that she can replace her,” Michael admits, feeling feeble for the way he sounds as he speaks, “and at the same time, I don’t wanna be the ingrate boyfriend who doesn’t see how much Alex is doing to make this happen for us. It’s just, how is she supposed to replace my Mom? How can I even think that when I don’t even know my Mom?”  
  
”You won’t find that out standing out here,” Valenti says.  
  
Michael breathes in and out, staring at the daunting bungalow in front of him.   
  
”Do or do not…” Valenti intones.  
  
”Oh, fuck you, I knew showing you Star Wars was a mistake,” Michael groans, but it has the effect of breaking the tension, making him huff out a laugh as he nods his head. “Yeah, I got it. There’s no try.” He’s just gotta do this and he knows it’ll turn out fine.  
  
He still can’t help worrying.   
  
”Michael,” Alex calls, ducking out onto the porch. He’s smiling like the sun is shining on him and he’s waving for the both of them to come inside. He looks so  _happy_  and Michael isn’t about to ruin that by running away. “Come inside, lunch is ready.”  
  
Valenti claps him on the shoulder, putting his hands on both of them like he’s intending to steer him inside if Michael doesn’t go on his own volition.  
  
”You can do this,” Valenti encourages.  
  
”I can at least try,” Michael admits. “For Alex.”  
  
”For Alex.”  
  
*  
  
Michael sits in the truck, full of lunch, tea and cookies, still feeling the tightness of Alex’s mother’s embrace as she’d hugged him so tightly to say goodbye, refusing to let him go until he’d relaxed. He hates that he’d tensed, but his experience with the Manes family, outside of Alex, has been resoundingly stressful.   
  
She’d been kind and warm and welcoming. She’d been the complete opposite of Jesse, and he’s starting to understand why she’d run away so early in Alex’s life.  
  
“So, did she…” Michael trails off, hating how small his voice sounds. “Do you think she liked me?”  
  
Alex gives Michael a fond smile. “She did ask when I was going to ask that nice boy to marry me,” is his wry comment. “She’s hard to put off when she knows that I’ve been in love with the same guy for over twelve years, not to mention the part where we live together. As far as she’s concerned, that’s  _inevitable_.”  
  
Michael feels his cheeks go hot, because he’d liked her, too.   
  
It’s not that he’s ever had a mother figure to compare her to, but she’d been sweet and warm with her love, while also having a firmness and a backbone of steel – but then, he supposes you’d have to, in order to leave Jesse Manes, because that takes guts.  
  
”I liked her too,” he mumbles, staring out the window so Alex can’t see the vulnerability on his face. “Do you think we could turn this into a regular thing? I know she doesn’t like coming back to Roswell, but I don’t mind driving out here, if that’s what we’d need to do.”  
  
From the way Alex practically  _radiates_  relief and joy, it’s definitely the right thing to say.  
  
”I think we can manage,” he agrees, tugging Michael towards him for a slow kiss that makes   
  
“Come on, let’s hit the road,” Valenti says, interrupting  _that_  beautiful moment, hopping in the back of the car, arms piled with leftovers. “I saw a 7-Eleven on the way back and I don’t know about you two, but I’m thinking Big Gulps.”  
  
Okay, thinks Michael. Maybe Valenti has a few decent qualities up his sleeve and his taste in roadside beverages is up there in the plus column.


	28. alex "moves on"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is totally fine with moving on, but it's a very different story when Alex starts to do the same.

Isobel has been giving him shit about his life since they buried Max. Today, the ‘verse is the same as the first, and Michael’s done with it.  
  
“When I said that it’s time for us to look to the future, I didn’t exactly mean that you should get back to your sexcapades,” is her disdainful remark.   
  
It’s not that he’s been subtle. Things with Alex have hurt for so long and so hard that he’d wanted to slide back into something simpler. That meant fooling around with Maria in the back of the Wild Pony. It meant picking up women on Friday nights and bringing them back to the Airstream after he’d drunk too much that he didn’t remember the night before. It meant making out with passing visitors at the tourist bar to feel the scrape of a man’s stubble on his cheeks.  
  
It means not thinking about how Max is dead and how he didn’t do anything to stop it. He’s moving on and it might not be healthy, but at least he’s not living in the past anymore.  
  
“It doesn’t hurt,” is Michael’s rough opinion on it.  
  
It does hurt, though, because he’s still looking at Alex this whole time. He sees the anger and the disappointment. He sees the way Alex looks at him like it’s the drive-in all over again, and he can hear Alex’s disappointed hiss that he’s wasting his life in his ears.  
  
That’s why it shouldn’t be a surprise when Alex decides to stop fighting for him. Michael had been the one to insist that they both move on, so he should be happy, right? This is what he wanted.  
  
That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt like someone’s stabbed him in the heart when he goes to the drive-in with Isobel to keep her company and sees Alex in  _someone else’s_  pick-up truck, drinking  _someone else’s_  beer.   
  
ET is the very last thing on his mind and it means that he misses Isobel calling his name at least a few times.  
  
Clearly, he’s been ignoring her far too long, because she abandons the human tricks and goes straight for the alien ones, shuffling them off into Isobel’s space, all blurry pinks.   
  
“What the fuck?” Michael snaps. “I told you I hate when you do that.”  
  
“Maybe if you actually responded to me, I wouldn’t have to drag you down here,” is her annoyed reply. She doesn’t let him out, either, so Michael resigns himself to being in a place where she has full control and he can’t lie. Honestly, he’s always been surprised she doesn’t take him here more. “What the hell is going on with you?”  
  
“Alex is here.”  
  
“Yeah, I know, I saw him looking like a snack in that leather jacket of his,” Isobel says approvingly. “You’ve basically been trying to narrow the six-degrees game with your dick, why’s it matter that he finally moved on?”  
  
Because it’s not like Alex is fucking the guy in the truck.  
  
He’s here on a date with him.   
  
Michael hadn’t even managed to agree to date Maria because he hadn’t been ready for anything more, which is why things have remained physical between him and  _all_  of his partners. His heart’s already claimed and that man is in a pick-up truck with someone else.  
  
Isobel has little to no sympathy for him, though. “If you want him, it’s your turn to fight for him,” is what she says, and her attention drifts. “…or maybe you’re the luckiest son of a bitch in the world…”  
  
Before Michael can ask her what the hell  _that_  means, she drifts away from him, like she’s been forcibly pulled out of his vision. He breathes sharply when she releases him.  
  
What he doesn’t expect to find is Alex at the end of the truck with a bucket of popcorn. There are a few kernels on Michael’s lap, which means he’s clearly been flicking them at Michael’s face for some time, trying to get his attention. “Are you okay?”  
  
Michael scrubs his hand over his face and points to Isobel, still a little unnerved. “Sibling bonding time in the alien gooey place,” is all he can muster. He glances up to see where Alex is parked, but when he does, there’s no one else in the truck with him, even though he definitely came with someone.  
  
“Where’s your date?”  
  
That little rueful smile on Alex’s face shouldn’t look so sweet and charming, but it does. He knows he shouldn’t be happy that Alex’s date bailed, but, well, here he is.   
  
“He started bitching about the movie. He doesn’t like kid films for dates and apparently, he doesn’t like aliens, which is kind of a dealbreaker for me,” Alex says evenly. “I didn’t want to leave and let everyone see me do the walk of shame after being dumped, so I was wondering if you guys would let me watch from here?”  
  
Michael’s heart is pounding in his chest and he can feel Isobel leaning in behind him. “You’re absolutely welcome,” Isobel beats him to it, thrusting a blanket towards him and making some space.   
  
Alex climbs onto the truck, with Michael’s belated help as he reaches out to make sure his leg isn’t going to give him trouble. He opens his mouth to insist that Isobel stay between them, but she’s already smoothing out the blanket in the space between them.  
  
It’s ET and Isobel is here. It’s not like Michael’s going to go into raptures of sexy need right now. True, Alex looks incredible and yeah, he’s single again (almost as soon as Michael had realized he’s dating someone), but that’s not in the cards.  
  
Michael’s not ready to move on, not really, and knowing that Alex isn’t either is one hell of a rush. He grabs the popcorn from Alex like it’s the price of admission, but Isobel holds out her Red Vines to Alex, splitting them as they settle in like old friends, gossiping and joking about the movie. Michael tugs the blanket around himself to curl in like a burrito, pressed up against the truck as he lets himself drift off to the sound of their voices.  
  
He wakes up when the credits are rolling to Red Vines tucked behind each ear and popcorn in his hair. “You guys suck,” he mutters sleepily, but he can feel a lingering warmth against his side.   
  
Michael suspects he knows exactly who’d been pressed up against him to cause that.  
  
“You’re just lucky I couldn’t find a sharpie,” Isobel tells him and Michael can’t even be mad, because she looks looser and happier than she has in ages. “We should do this again sometime.” She’s looking pointedly at Alex when she says it. “I’m airing Land Before Time next week.” In fact, they’re airing all of Isobel’s favorites, which means the Notebook is on its way. “Alex, be here at seven.”  
  
Alex raises a brow, glancing to Michael and mouthing,  _is she serious?_  
  
Michael shrugs and nods, because yeah. If Alex can figure out a way to say no to Isobel Evans, then he’d be the first. “Yes, ma’am,” he replies, still looking somewhat stunned.   
  
That night, they drop off Alex to the cabin and Michael crashes at Isobel’s place – he’s all but moved in, since Noah and Max – knowing that she’s going to want to talk about it.   
  
“Are you mad?” she checks.  
  
“What, that you invited Alex to our sad alien movie party?” He shakes his head. “No,” he admits. “I guess I thought I was ready to move on, but I was ready for me to move on, and in the exact specific way that I wanted to.” He wanted sex and fun and no issues. “I wasn’t ready to let him move on, which means that maybe I’m not so ready either.”  
  
Isobel is looking at him like he’s arrived at this conclusion absolutely last of all.   
  
“Just let me know when you want to start making out in the back of the truck so I can bring popcorn to throw at you,” she says, hanging up her jacket. “You deserve a fresh start, Michael. That doesn’t mean you have to burn your past completely. Anyway,” she adds, and smiles selfishly, “I like Alex and I want to spend more time with him. He doesn’t flinch when I say true things about people in this town.”  
  
Alex and Isobel together is definitely a dangerous combination, but Michael’s absolutely good to try it out for a while. After all, it’s not like they’re treading water or diving back into the past. They’re just moving on, maybe in a brand new way.   
  
He can definitely give that a shot.  
  
*  
  
It’s three months later and it’s  _not_ The Notebook.   
  
“I warned you,” Isobel says, in between the popcorn that she’s flicking furiously at Alex and Michael – the latter of which has climbed into Alex’s lap and is making out with him, as if they’re trying to make up for lost time.  
  
Michael lets out an aggrieved noise as he hauls back off Alex’s lap. “Then don’t air Magic Mike, suggest Alex give me a lap dance, and think you were gonna get any other concl….” He’s shut up when Alex grabs him by the curls and hauls him in for a kiss.  
  
They’re not just moving on, Michael thinks. They’re moving all the way up, if they get nights like this.


	29. mylex - the doctor vs doctor war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael goes back to school and gets his doctorate which leads to Kyle getting annoyed because he insists on both Kyle and Alex calling him "doctor".

“Hey, pass me another bottle of beer,” Kyle requests, wiping his hands on the paper towel.   
  
The weather’s finally gorgeous and they’re taking advantage of the cabin’s great expanse of yard to have as many barbecues out here as they can. Michael grills the meat, Alex does the knifework, and Kyle brings the beer. It’s a pretty casual date and it’s how they’ve learned to navigate this threesome of theirs.  
  
Of course, there are nights like this where Michael has to go and make it difficult.  
  
“Guerin!” Kyle snaps.  
  
Alex rolls his eyes. “You know what he wants. Just say it so we don’t have to do this all night.”  
  
Kyle inhales sharply and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He is thirty-five years old. He is way too old for this shit, yet here he is, dealing with one of his boyfriends not speaking to him and his other boyfriend acting as a conversation conduit, all for the stupidest reason.  
  
“Doctor Guerin,” Kyle snaps. “Would you pass me another beer?”  
  
Michael smiles as sweet as pie and hands Kyle the beer, dragging his thumb over the cold sweat of precipitation on it before he drags that same finger over Kyle’s neck, leaning in to kiss him and settle in his lap now that they’re done eating.   
  
“Was that so hard?”  
  
Kyle rolls his eyes, wishing that he could actually make Michael feel how frustrated he is, but while they’ve been straining their alien abilities, empathy either isn’t one Michael possesses or just isn’t bothering to care about.   
  
“When I stab him,” Kyle says to Alex later when they’re doing their usual bedroom routine and swapping in and out of the bedroom, “do you think that his PhD is gonna staunch the bleeding or is a  _real_  doctor going to do the work?”  
  
Alex glares at him from where he’s flossing. “Please don’t get him going,” is all he mutters, leaning forward to spit once he’s done brushing.  
  
Kyle already knows that fancy PhD won’t do anything, so he goes to sleep that night wrapped around his two boyfriends, knowing that in his eyes, he’s the only actual doctor under this roof.  
  
Tomorrow will just be another day of proving it to the others.  
  
*  
  
“So, explain what’s happening again?”  
  
Riley Black is one of Alex’s old air force buddies who’d always known about Alex’s situation. He’d known about Michael, but he’d also known about his crush on Kyle when they were kids. It means that he’s one of the few friends from the job that Alex had felt safe confiding in when he, Michael, and Kyle had decided to do their thing.  
  
Right now, they’re at the Wild Pony where Michael and Kyle are in version fourteen of their heated argument about what the word  _doctor_  means.  
  
“I went to medical school and worked my ass off…!”  
  
“What, are you implying that I didn’t? I spent years earning that doctorate and the actual definition…”  
  
“Oh, spare me,” Kyle huffs. “We both know you just like the way it sounds in bed when Alex says it…”  
  
Riley raises a brow at Alex, who goes pink. He’s deliberately tuning out the rest of this argument because he knows how it ends. Ever since they got together, every argument between Michael and Kyle ends with the both of them in the alley, making out like they’re trying to win that, too.   
  
“The definition of doctor in our household is a hotly contested debate,” is Alex’s deadpanned response, sipping at his beer.   
  
“Guessing this is just some kind of weird foreplay?”  
  
As Alex watches Kyle and Michael furtively lean in and start whispering, their chins nodding towards the alley, he knows there’s all of a few minutes before Maria gives him the five-minute warning to get off her premises before someone beats them up or calls the cops on them.  
  
Still, he also knows Kyle and Michael will make the most of those five minutes heatedly arguing in the midst of their alley makeout session. That, or they’ll be in the middle of a brawl that Alex is going to have to get in the middle of. Tonight, he has a friend in town, so he deliberately turns away from them.   
  
“My boyfriends are idiots,” is Alex’s flat response to that. “I’m gonna ignore them tonight because it’s not every day I get a friend in town.”  
  
Riley salutes him with his beer. “Cheers to that.”  
  
Alex gets wasted that night, losing track of both Michael and Kyle around beer number four, but Maria calls him a taxi and tells him that his idiots have been dealt with.   
  
*  
  
There are times when Michael picks a fight that he intends to lose, knowing that the consequence is he’ll get Kyle looking smug and hot. Other times, that fight is all too real and he’s viciously defending the hard work that he did to earn the right to be called  _doctor_ , every bit as much as Kyle did.   
  
It’s learning the intricacies of those arguments. Tonight at the Pony, it feels a lot more like the former, if only because they’d only been talking about what they were going to do for Alex’s birthday when Michael had dropped in an absent comment about how Kyle could dress up as a sexy nurse, seeing as it would be just about as much work as he’d done getting the ‘doctor’ title.   
  
Kyle bristles and then they’re off. “I went to medical school and worked my ass off…!”  
  
“What?” Michael challenges, eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. He’s only pushing Kyle’s buttons tonight, wanting to see how pent up he can get him, because he knows exactly what happens when they’re both brimming with so much energy that they need to find a way to expend it. “What, are you implying that I didn’t? I spent years earning that doctorate and the actual definition…”  
  
“Oh, spare me,” Kyle huffs. “We both know you just like the way it sounds in bed when Alex says it…”   
  
Michael raises both eyebrows. He doesn’t even need words to ask if Kyle is seriously telling him that he doesn’t like it just as much.  
  
“So what if it sounds better to say Dr. Guerin than Dr. Valenti,” he counters, because he’s got Kyle almost all the way to the riled up point that he likes him at, but Kyle’s still holding on to some of that control.  
  
He can see it ebbing away. He’s gripping his pool cue tighter, his thumb stroking up and down the side of it, and Michael knows that they’re seconds away from having to take this outside or risk Maria hosing them down. He glances over his shoulder to see if Alex is going to intervene, but he’s too busy talking to his friend.  
  
So, you know, this is all up to him.  
  
“I don’t know about that, but I definitely know you moaning your own name when you’re jacking off is nowhere near as sexy as you saying mine,” Kyle argues.  
  
 _Point_.  
  
“Let’s take this outside,” Michael suggests, with the heated aggression of a man who’s implying they’re about to fight instead of what’s actually going to happen. He sets the cue against the table, waiting for Kyle to follow his lead.   
  
Luckily, they’re heated enough that they’re definitely not going to be doing much fighting (which is a lie, but they fight a lot better when they’re tangled up together, heatedly kissing like they have to prove to one another that they’re better even in  _that_ ).  
  
Michael heads out the door first, ready to round the corner to the trusted little back area of the Pony, still bitching. “I mean, come on, so you went to medical school,” he’s mock-griping at this point, and he’s glad he’s not facing Kyle, because he’s grinning like an idiot. “I can put a bandage on someone too. So can Alex, but you don’t hear us calling him…”  
  
He doesn’t get past that.  
  
Kyle grabs his ass unexpectedly, mid-rant, and Michael goes stumbling forward, slamming his face against the nearest pole. The  _thunk_ sound might be funny if Michael’s vision didn’t suddenly swim and he wobbles a little, hearing Kyle’s shout of alarm.  
  
“Fuck! Fuck, Michael, I didn’t mean to…”  
  
“Relax,” Michael says, closing the one eye because it’s definitely going to bruise. “I mean, you clearly had the element of surprise with the ass-grab,” he admits, wincing as he opens the eye a little to let Kyle inspect it. “How bad?”  
  
Kyle drifts in, sliding his fingers over his face. They feel cool against his too-hot skin and suddenly their argument from earlier seems really stupid when Kyle’s willing to drop everything and take care of him.  
  
It definitely deserves something in turn.  
  
He slides his fingers around Kyle’s wrist to pry it off his face. For a second, Kyle looks genuinely worried, his eyes widening with alarm, and there’s a mild protest on his lips, but Michael works fast. He eases him around the corner to the back of the Pony, pinning Kyle to the wall as he sinks down.  
  
“Michael,” Kyle groans as Michael gets Kyle’s jeans undone. “Your eye…”  
  
“Don’t poke my eye out with your dick and it’ll be fine,” he argues, because they can ice it and worry about it later. Since Kyle looks like he’s about to argue, Michael hurries it up when it comes to getting his mouth on Kyle.   
  
With his hands on Kyle’s hips to control the pace, he doesn’t need long to get Kyle worked up to the point that he’s not doing much more than moaning Michael’s name, but the real treat of it all is when Kyle comes and he moans out, “Doctor Guerin,” because deep down, Kyle really does love him.  
  
It’s sweet how he’s gonna sit around and argue that somehow, his doctorate is more important.  
  
(Yeah, yeah, Michael knows that neither of them is better than the other, but the little mock-fights they have is some of the best foreplay he’s ever had in his life). He eases back onto his knees and clambers to his feet so Kyle can thread his fingers into Michael’s hair, dragging him in for a slow kiss to clean his lips (even though Michael spit).   
  
“You sure you’re okay?” Kyle asks quietly. “I can go inside, get Alex, we can go home.”  
  
“Nah, he’s having a good time,” Michael waves a hand. “Let’s go back, you can take care of me there, okay?”  
  
That requires no argument, it looks like.   
  
When they get back to the cabin, Kyle goes immediately for the ice. “I’d make a comment here about you needing a medical doctor, but seeing as I caused the issue and I’m just putting ice on you, I don’t know if that’s really a great argument.”   
  
He settles on the couch and pats his thighs a couple times, which is all the permission Michael needs before he curls up on Kyle’s lap, resting his cheek against his leg.   
  
“Besides, you kind of one-upped me back at the Pony.”  
  
“This time,” Michael hums, and from the dazed look on Kyle’s face, he’s feeling pretty blissful himself. “Don’t worry, doc,” he praises. “You’ll get your chance later on.”  
  
He always does.   
  
*  
  
When Alex gets home that night, Michael’s head is in Kyle’s lap on the bed and he’s icing a black eye. His lips are also swollen and there’s a hickey on Kyle’s neck that Alex suspects he knows where it came from.  
  
The black eye is a little worrying.  
  
“Usually you two only wrestle,” Alex says, stumbling inside drunkenly and dropping his keys in the bowl in the front hallway, collapsing at Kyle’s other side, pushing at Michael so he can rest his cheek one of Kyle’s thighs, Michael on the other. Kyle looks pretty blissful, sliding his fingers through their hair, so Alex is guessing there was an, “I’m very sorry, Dr. Valenti, let me show you how much I care” blowjob.  
  
“This idiot,” Kyle begins, tugging Michael’s curls lightly, “ran right into a pole.”  
  
“You were groping my ass,” Michael mumbles, shifting the ice to peer at Alex. “We compromised.”  
  
Alex rolls his eyes, because they always do when they’re happily sexed and drunk.  
  
“Well, then, Dr. Valenti,” Alex says, “and Dr. Guerin. Captain Manes has the spins and needs to be put in a shower.” He extends both arms out to them. “Use your fancy degrees for that, why don’t you?”  
  
Alex is more than happy to report that their respective educations don’t fail either of them in this task. He definitely appreciates their devoted attention and thinks that whether it’s medical school or graduate school, they both deserve a hearty pat on their doctory backs.


	30. getting back together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael in the future realizing how love is actually the best thing to have happened to him.

If anyone ever asks him when he’d changed his mind, he’s going to lie.  
  
Michael can’t have anyone know how much of a cliche he is, but he thinks that anyone would be swayed if they were in his shoes. After they had resurrected Max, he and Liz had found their way together and strengthened their foundation, soaring together just as quickly as Michael and Maria had crashed amidst a pile of miscommunications, lies, and his inability to be vulnerable around her for fear of being in pain and ruining that, too.  
  
He’d still ruined their chances at anything, only leading him to really feel that love’s the worst thing in the world.  
  
Tonight, though, after listening to Liz and Max speak at their wedding about how love is what’s given them a new chance in life, how they don’t plan to waste it, and how it’s made things incredible, even if scary, he feels like he’s been struck by a comet.  
  
Liz had stood there and talked about how loving Max was like standing on the edge of a cliff, feeling like she was about to fall, but she said it like it was a  _good_  thing. She talked about the terrifying hurt like it made her stronger, and for the first time, Michael realized that all this time, he’d been thinking about loving Alex being like a crash landing in the wrong way.  
  
He hates that he had this epiphany at a wedding, but he did.  
  
Yeah, the crash landing is messy and visceral and violent, but it makes you remember that you’re  _alive_  and to make you focus on what’s important in your life. He feels like he must look like he’s been smacked across the face, sitting at the head table and facing all the guests.   
  
Lucky for him, Isobel and Maria keep sneaking off to the closet and it’s given him something else to focus on. Fortunately, no one else has noticed, and definitely not Alex Manes.  
  
Alex, who’s been chatting politely with all of Liz’s family. Alex, who’s been running interference on everything wedding related just so that Max and Liz can focus on the day. Alex, who looks stunning in eyeliner and his suit, and who Kyle keeps nudging him to notice.  
  
He’s noticed.  
  
That’s the trick of it – he never stopped noticing, it’s just that he’s thought that love is the worst. Tonight, watching Max and Liz, he’s starting to think that love is terrifying, but worth the leap. Of course, he’s also spent two years breaking up his relationships and straining them because he hasn’t been brave. He’d managed to fix his friendship with Maria through months, he’d managed to make it work with Max after his resurrection, and he’d even found common ground with Valenti. He just hasn’t figured out how to take something that he’d buried to avoid causing himself pain and rekindle that relationship.  
  
The question is, how does he turn it around?  
  
He starts at the wedding. “Hey,” he says, offering a hand out to Alex. “Wanna dance?”  
  
Alex looks at his hand warily, then down to his prosthetic, and Michael can tell there’s a smart remark coming.  
  
“I’m not exactly a foxtrot kind of guy myself,” he cuts off whatever Alex intends to say. “We can just do the awkward high school shuffle, but come on,” he begs under his breath. “I love this song.”  
  
He doesn’t even know this song, but it’s worth it when Alex takes the first step and follows Michael onto the dance floor. It’s a single dance before Alex gets dragged off to do shots with the bridal party and then helps with the cake cutting, but it’s a step in the right direction.   
  
From there, he makes sure he’s back in Alex’s life. It’s easy when Max and Liz leave to travel on their honeymoon, seeing as it leaves a gap in both their social lives. When the newlyweds get back, Michael comes up with even more excuses for seeing Alex, which usually mean he’s purposefully breaking his laptop so Alex can help him fix it.   
  
There’s something developing again between them. Beyond the friendship, Michael can feel that spark reigniting and he knows that if he lights a match, he can get that flame burning once more.  
  
It never really went out, Michael just started to ignore it.  
  
One night, when he’s watching movies at Isobel’s place with Maria and her, he tells them about his plan. “You know that time when I said love’s the worst thing that ever happened to me?”  
  
Maria shares a look with Isobel, raising her brow. “And he wonders why we didn’t work out. What a romantic.”  
  
“Thanks, DeLuca,” Michael sarcastically replies, rolling his eyes. He takes in a deep breath and he knows this isn’t the easiest thing in the world, but he needs to admit to his mistake. “I was wrong. It’s scary and it’s terrifying, but only because that’s all I ever focused on. I missed the softer parts, the trust, the adrenaline of the fall,” he admits with a scoff, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Having someone to love…”  
  
“Maybe it’s not so bad?” Isobel suggests.  
  
He definitely doesn’t think it is.   
  
“So what do I do?”   
  
He feels like he’s doing a dangerous thing by putting his love life in the hands of two women who terrify him. One of them, an ex-girlfriend that he’d spent a year tangled up with and then untangling from as best as they could. The other, his sister, who had swooped right into that rebound to show Michael what fireworks actually looked like when you kissed someone.  
  
If he ends up with a boombox outside Alex’s house, he’s gonna lose some of that trust in their abilities.  
  
“You want to show Alex you love him? That love is a good thing and you’re happy that it happened to you?” It’s rhetorical, given that it’s Isobel, so Michael doesn’t say a word. “Then crash land again, but pick up the wreckage together.”  
  
“I really regret that metaphor,” Michael says, but he leaves that night with a plan in mind.  
  
Actually, that’s the nice version, the cleaned up version.  
  
He leaves that night, drives right to Alex’s cabin in the woods, and they crash land together into bed. If there were oxygen masks to pull, then Michael would definitely grab one during the six crashes they have that night, but he kind of gets Isobel’s point.  
  
In the morning, amidst the wreckage, Michael burrows in closer to Alex. “You stayed,” Alex murmurs, sleepily blinking awake and letting his gaze slide over Michael, letting his fingers drift over his hip. “You don’t have to go anywhere? You don’t want to pretend last night never happened?”  
  
Michael could point out that those are plays from Alex’s playbook, but he’s not here for that. He’s here because he’s figured out that love is the best thing that’s happened to him, at least when it’s being in love with Alex Manes.  
  
“Actually,” he says, “I thought that you and I could get breakfast together, then maybe see what we think about working out that creak in your front door.”   
  
Love doesn’t always mean crash landings.  
  
Today, love means breakfast and a visit to the hardware store. No crash positions needed at all. 


	31. sticky hot mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyric inspired: "i can't stop thinking about how nice it would be to be bothered by your breath reclaiming mine. to wake up in the morning half dead to you unable to find a place to rest your arms. i can't move 'cos he's comfortable there his legs tangled in mine hands tangled in hair. i can't move 'cos he's comfortable there."

The air conditioning broke days ago, but Michael’s been too busy to fix it.  
  
Alex keeps protesting that it doesn’t matter. They can live without it, they’re grown men, and they could always call a repairman, but Michael’s stubbornness refuses to let him give in that easily. He’s been busy working at the junkyard and it’s been busy season at the ranch and despite him only working there to get ship parts, when the Roswell families come calling, he feels like shit not agreeing to help with the livestock and their equipment.  
  
So, it’s hot, it’s sticky, and it’s become something of an issue at certain times of day, mainly because…  
  
It leads to mornings like this one.  
  
Michael rouses, skin sticky with sweat, pressed up and tangled together with Alex. The fan isn’t enough to cool them off completely, but it is enough that little droplets of sweat aren’t carving paths down Alex’s skin anymore, something that happened the first morning and had made Michael whimper with jealousy.  
  
He wriggles in, though he’s careful not to press right up against Alex. The heat would bother him and that’s not what Michael is going for. Instead, he slips his fingers into Alex’s hair, hoping that his heater-like temperature isn’t making this worse.  
  
When that touch isn’t enough, Michael goes for broke.  
  
If it’s too uncomfortable and it wakes Alex up, they’ll deal with it, but Michael tangles their legs together, rocking up against Alex so he can drag his semi against his hip. The summer’s been relentless with the sun and given their jobs often take them outside, they both have a healthy tan.  
  
On Alex, Michael swears it makes him glow. With him, it just makes him freckle.  
  
He lets out a slow breath, hot air against Alex’s shoulder, and the stickiness of their skin melts them together like they’re meant to be connected in more ways than one. He runs plenty hot, so while his lips aren’t wholly an oasis in the desert, they’re still a touch cooler.  
  
Michael presses slow kisses from Alex’s shoulder up to his neck, and when he licks up the trail of sweat, he blows cool air over it after, brushing Alex’s hair back in soft little waves.  
  
It also wakes Alex up.   
  
“Guerin,” Alex sleepily protests, his eyes are still shut.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“It’s so hot,” he protests, and Michael knows that between the temperature and Michael’s own core body temperature, Alex must feel like he’s pressed up against a space heater – and, really, he kind of is. He turns in Michael’s arms, staring up at him from where his hair’s gone wild, sticking to the pillowcase, sweat matting it down. “You’ll fix the AC today?”  
  
Michael nods, sleepy and warm and hard. “Today,” he promises, sliding his thumb over Alex’s hip until he raises goosebumps over his arms, making him shiver by the way his breath trembles. “There’s only one problem with that.”  
  
“Mmm?”  
  
“To fix the air,” Michael whispers, dragging his splayed palm all the way up Alex’s chest, until it’s resting over his heart, feeling the steady beat, “I’d have to get up out of this bed.”  
  
“Yeah, you would.”  
  
“You can see my dilemma.”  
  
Alex pokes one eye open and peers down his body, smirking as he wraps his hand around Michael’s hard cock and gives it a lazy stroke. “I can feel it, too.” He lets his head fall back on the pillow, still stroking Michael. “Okay,” he finally groans, even though the heat is only going to get worse as the sun keeps rising and spilling in through their windows. “You can fix the AC later, so long as you don’t move an inch.”  
  
“I wouldn’t dare.”  
  
Tomorrow morning, the AC is fixed and the cabin is finally cool again, but Alex wakes up as warm as ever, tangled up in Michael’s arms, beads of sweat being kissed off his lip, his neck, and then all over again in case he missed a spot.   
  
He didn’t, Michael knows, but it never hurts to make sure. 


	32. mylex - alex has a ptsd episode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex has a PTSD episode during the 4th of July party; Michael & Kyle help him through it.

It’s the Fourth of July weekend, which Michael has never really appreciated before. It’s an ode to a country that he crash-landed in and one with a government that would love to split him open if given half the chance. As a result of his  _particular_  feelings about the day, he’s opting to stay at home instead of going to the town-wide celebrations that Isobel is throwing down at the lake.   
  
“Michael,” Kyle had protested. “Seriously?”  
  
They’d been in the middle of packing up the picnic for the day at the lake, trying to bribe Michael with offers to get shirtless, booze, and as a last ditch attempt, a promise to try and shove Max into the water.   
  
“I got beer here,” Michael had protested, “and the whole shirtless thing doesn’t count for much when I know you two will be back tonight, plus I can get you pantsless then, too.” He’s already sunk back into the couch at the cabin, doing his best to become one with it.  
  
He can tell both Kyle and Alex are pissed at him, but they can stay that way. Michael will earn their forgiveness later.   
  
“You don’t want me there,” he insists. “I’ll just sulk and bitch the whole time. We’re always talking about how we need to have more one on one dates,” he reminds Kyle, given that he’d brought it up at dinner the other day. “Look, it’s a perfect opportunity. Go, have fun, make out, mock me behind my back,” Michael says with a wave of his hand, digging out the television remote and taking a long sip of his beer.  
  
Alex gives him an unimpressed look. “Seriously, Guerin?”  
  
“Go make out with Valenti and touch his abs, you’ll forget I even exist,” he quips, but he still reaches up to grab Alex by the hem of his shirt, tugging him in for a quick peck of a kiss before doing the same for Kyle, though for Kyle, he adds, “Take care of him.”  
  
“Always do,” Kyle agrees.   
  
They leave without another attempt to drag him out, which Michael is beyond grateful for, allowing him peace, quiet, and hours of a Mythbusters marathon. He ignores the buzzing texts to his phone, knowing that it’ll be his siblings or Liz trying to guilt him into coming or sending him pictures of his shirtless boyfriends to try and make a case.   
  
He’s in the middle of lighting up a joint when his cell rings. That’s not normal, which is why Michael leans over to see who it is, dropping the joint when he sees Kyle’s name on the caller ID.  
  
“What happened?” he demands instantly, when he picks up.   
  
“Michael,” Kyle’s voice is in a panic. “I need you here. Now!”   
  
Michael curses under his breath, wondering who the hell is attacking them and why the hell he didn’t go with them to the lake. “Who is it? Is it Jesse?” He hisses when he stubs his toe, hopping into his jeans and boots, the cell pressed to his ear. “Kyle!” He can hear loud popping in the background, like gunfire. “Kyle, talk to me!”  
  
“It’s Alex,” Kyle says. “We’re not under attack, but he thinks we are. It’s the fireworks, they started going off and Alex just went into this….this state…”  
  
 _Shit_ , thinks Michael.  
  
It’s the first year they’ve done Fourth of July celebrations and they’re both complete idiots not to have considered this possibility. He grabs the keys to his truck, grateful that he had his last beer hours ago before his cat nap, slamming the driver door shut and shoving the phone onto the dash before putting it on speaker so Kyle can talk to him the whole time.   
  
He breaks about ten road laws as he speeds his way there, but it doesn’t matter.  
  
“Kyle,” Michael begs. “Doc, you gotta talk to me.”  
  
“He’s curled up, he won’t let me touch him. He keeps screaming that his leg hurts, that it feels like he’s on fire.” Michael slams both hands against the steering wheel, furious with himself for not going to the party with them. He could have done something like douse the fireworks with water or figured something out, but he’d been lazy and selfish and now Alex is paying for it. “I’m trying to get him back in the moment, but…”  
  
“Get them to stop the fireworks,” Michael grits out. He’s still five minutes away, even pushing the pedal to the floor the way he is, hoping that no one is on the roads tonight. “Just get him through this. C’mon, Kyle, you know what to do.”  
  
If anything, Michael had expected Alex to go through this at Caulfield, but they must have been far enough and the adrenaline from coaxing Michael to escape could have held it off.   
  
He’d never considered that the smell, the sight, and the sound of the fireworks on a casual night out would do it.   
  
Michael parks near the front of the event, slamming the door of the truck shut. He storms towards the chaos, seeing instantly where Kyle and Alex are because there’s a small crowd around them and he can hear Alex’s pained howling screams that tear into his heart, like a dagger shredding him to pieces.   
  
Instead of heading there, he goes towards the lake and where the float carries all the fireworks. The fury inside him means that he doesn’t need anything more than the lightest of pushes to send a small tidal wave over the people and the fireworks on the barge, soaking them and rendering every last one of them useless.  
  
The last one goes off in the sky and then, nothing.  
  
It becomes clear to everyone that the show is over, and there’s a sudden rise in complaints and sounds of disappointment, but Michael turns on his heel and sprints for Alex and Kyle, skidding to his knees at Kyle’s side, hand out, but not touching Alex where he’s rocking on the ground, hand at the place where his leg meets the prosthetic.   
  
“Deep breaths, Alex,” Kyle is saying and then going to through a pantomime of showing him that he’s breathing to get Alex to follow. Now that the din of fireworks is gone, there’s a chance he might hear him. “Okay? It’s Kyle and Michael is here too. Michael, say hey.”  
  
“Hey, babe,” Michael says, and leans in to catch his eyes. “I’m here and so is Kyle. We’re in Roswell,” he says, trying to anchor him. It’s killing him not to reach out and coax Alex into his arms, but they both learned their lesson a long time ago when it came to touching Alex in the middle of an episode. “See how Kyle’s breathing? Do that. Deep breath,” he pleads.  
  
Alex’s eyes are still riddled with pain, but they flick from Kyle to Michael, then back. He watches Kyle’s breathing and then he takes a slow breath in, a shaky one out, and starts to match his pace.  
  
“Perfect,” Kyle praises. “Tell me who’s here with you.”  
  
“Kyle,” Alex says, the panic starting to recede from his eyes. They slide over to Michael, fixed on him. “Michael.”  
  
Michael sags forward and while he doesn’t feel right touching Alex just yet, there’s no issue with him touching Kyle. He grabs Kyle’s shoulder and half collapses into him, grateful that they’ve got Alex back in the present, if nothing else.   
  
“We’re going home,” Michael says curtly. “Keep your phone on the whole time,” is his sharp warning as he digs his keys out, leaning forward to kiss Alex’s cheek and groaning when he forgets the “no touch” rule and leans back, seeing Kyle’s reprimanding look. “Fuck!” he snaps, when he storms away, storming right past Max and Liz with their concerned eyes.   
  
When he gets to his truck, he grabs the wheel and forces himself to take in those deep breaths that they’d just made Alex do. He always complains that they’re bullshit in private, but they do calm him down. At least, enough that he can get back to the cabin to tidy up and get any potential triggers out of the way. Kyle talks to him the whole time over the phone and soon enough, Alex joins in the conversation.   
  
His voice is thin, but it’s there.  
  
They get back home thirty minutes later and Alex makes a beeline for Michael, wrapping his arms around him. Michael glances over Alex’s head to see Kyle nodding, so he wraps his arms around Alex until Kyle can join in, pinning them all in a tight hug.   
  
“I’m sorry I let you two go off on your own,” Michael says, voice low. “I should’ve known you two could find trouble anywhere.”  
  
“We should have stuck around and been shirtless from the start,” Kyle agrees with a joke. “Alex, I’m sorry that we…”  
  
“Let’s not,” Alex cuts him off. His voice is stronger now, so Michael knows that the episode is over. “I need a bath to myself, then I want a beer, and you two shirtless on the couch curled up with me while we watch television, in that exact order.”  
  
Michael lets go of Alex so he can drift back and focus on turning on the tap with his powers. “He’s back,” he says, grinning like an idiot, because every time Alex has an episode, Michael always worries that they might be losing some shred of Alex. Not this time. Not ever, if he and Kyle can help it.  
  
“Sir, yes, sir,” Kyle agrees.   
  
They send Alex off to get going on the first few items on the list, but by the end of it, the three of them curl in on the large sectional. Out here by the cabin, the sign on their lawn warns anyone off setting off fireworks or gun-practice, and it’s that blissful silence that they all sink into. Curled around one another, they check off the unspoken last item on Alex’s list:  
  
Fall asleep tangled together knowing that they’ll protect one another from every threat, no matter what. 


	33. jealous alex of michael's old (male) flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When an old hookup of Michael's comes back to town, Alex finds himself dressing to impress even if he's told himself he's not stooping to Michael's level.

For months, the Wild Pony had been a dangerous place for Alex to set foot in. He might walk in and see Michael making out with Maria, or Michael tugging on the long-haired bartender’s ponytail to yank him in for a kiss, or a tourist from a passing town who happened to find their way into Michael’s lap. In those months post-Max, Michael really took to the whole ‘no encores’ with aplomb.   
  
Maybe Maria would have been different, if she’d let it happen, but as soon as she’d cottoned onto Michael’s game, she opted out.   
  
So it’s safe to be back, tentatively, because Maria’s put Michael on a one-night only restriction, with the provision that he isn’t allowed to pick up anyone new. “He’s going to give himself an STD,” she says, aggressively polishing the glasses. “I can’t believe you’re telling me you still love him.”  
  
Alex shrugs, because it’s not something he can help.  
  
He and Maria had talked it out over a bottle of tequila and it had ended with her resolute promise to respect Alex’s feelings, even if Michael didn’t seem to even understand what a feeling was, those days. She hadn’t been willing to let Michael use her and since Alex is in the same boat, it leaves them fast friends once more, sitting at the bar of the Pony and watching Michael wander in for his weekly allotted time at the bar.  
  
“DeLuca. Manes.”   
  
Alex tries not to let that sting, but he did go radio silent when he’d figured out that in the wake of Max’s death, Michael was trying to burn himself to the ground. He’s not going to walk away any longer, but he’s also not planning to step in with the fire extinguisher.  
  
He has his own healing to do.  
  
“Guerin,” Maria replies evenly. “Guy over there in the corner has been asking after you. I thought I told you no hookups,” she says sharply, gesturing to the hot guy in the booth, wearing a biker jacket and a pair of jeans that are so tight, Alex feels the sympathetic hurt.  
  
Alex had noticed him when he’d walked in because he’d been checking him out, but Alex doesn’t really give random people much attention, not when he’s still trying to figure out his move with Michael to both let him know that he’s still interested, but that he also needs Michael to work on his bullshit.   
  
Michael glances to the booth and raises a brow. “Shit,” he exhales. “I didn’t know he was back in town.”

Alex and Maria exchange a confused look as Michael ignores ordering a drink to go say hello to whoever the old friend is. They look close, which Alex is trying not to pay too much attention to.  
  
He knows Maria will hold on to her rule about no hookups, but that doesn’t help when it looks like Michael is all buddy-buddy with the guy, leaning into his touch. They might not be looking to hook up tonight, but Alex has the feeling that they definitely have in the past.  
  
Alex forces himself to turn back around, reminding himself that it’s none of his business who Michael used to sleep with or who he’s sleeping with now. If Michael doesn’t want to date or do anything, Alex doesn’t get to insist otherwise. It’s not his turn to make demands.  
  
Maria offers him a sympathetic look and a warning nod, which is all he gets before Michael’s at the bar with his friend at his side.  
  
“This is Murphy,” Michael introduces him, clapping him on his back. “He and I worked on Foster Ranch two summers ago,” he says, letting his eyes slide over Murphy’s chest, pushing a long exhalation out past his cheeks. Alex’s jealousy is starting to spike off the charts, because he thought he was the only one who made Michael react like that. “We had a great summer, didn’t we?”  
  
“Definitely great,” Murphy agrees, voice low. “You working the ranches this year?”  
  
“Nah, got a new gig at the junkyard…”  
  
Alex tunes them out and drinks, noticing how Michael doesn’t introduce either him or Maria to Murphy, which means that he must have already told them. “Well,” Murphy says, voice low, “You should stumble out to the ranch sometime. Maybe we can get into some of that old trouble.”  
  
Alex clears his throat, pushing off his stool.   
  
“You don’t have to go…”  
  
“No, I’m good,” Alex says firmly. “Just taking a bathroom break,” he says, because he wouldn’t leave Maria here alone to deal with this either, even if she had been fairly clear about how Michael’s downward spiral had done a good job shattering any deeper feelings she’d been starting to develop for him.  
  
Apparently, the truth of Michael’s life and his antics are enough to sway any sane person away from him. It’s a shame that Alex lost that ability ten years ago when he’d first fallen in love.  
  
He spends half an hour collecting himself before he heads back out to the bar, ignoring Michael and Murphy at the pool table. There’s a shot of whiskey waiting for him and a mirroring one in Maria’s hand. “Here’s to our bad taste. I wish it wouldn’t linger in your mouth so long,” she says. “I met this great new guy through Liz,” she says. “Maybe she could hook you up?”  
  
Alex shakes his head, a disappointed look on his face. “I’m still in love with him,” he admits. “For better or worse.”   
  
Hearing the drunken slurs of Michael’s speech behind him, it’s definitely been for worse these days.   
  
*  
  
The next week, Alex knows he should go anywhere other than the Pony on Michael’s night, but that feels weirdly like losing. He can hear Kyle’s voice in his head telling him that it’s not a war, but it sure as hell feels like one. There’s no guarantee that Murphy will be there tonight and he still isn’t in control of what Michael wants to do.  
  
He suspects the last thing he’s going to do is drop everything and come beg for Alex to give them a chance, but none of that matters.  
  
Even if nothing is going to happen, he’s not going to passively sit there and let Murphy get all of Michael’s attention. He takes care that night when he dresses, putting on the pair of skinny jeans that he knows flatters his ass best, along with a long-sleeved shirt that stretches against his shoulderblades when he shifts. He adds just a hint of eyeliner to the lids of his eyes, runs gel into his hair, and puts on a pair of combat boots along with his leather jacket.  
  
He looks good. He  _knows_  he looks good.   
  
Alex isn’t even sure why he’s doing it, because it’s not like Michael had been making out with Murphy in that booth. There had just been the  _implication_  that something had happened in the past, but Alex knows how Michael looks at people that he wants and it hadn’t been hard to see.  
  
He takes one last look in the mirror even though he knows he looks good, then he heads for the Pony.   
  
Maria gives him a knowing look, rolling her eyes. “I’d say that you’re addicted, but here I am instead of sending out my bartender,” she says, with a hopeless shrug. “I, however, am not wearing my very best. Can you even sit in those?”  
  
“We’re going to find out,” Alex says, inching down onto a stool because he’s not sure if they’re going to end up splitting at the seams. Maria brings them both beers and they get to gossip, trying to avoid Michael’s name even though they both know why Alex is dressed up like that.   
  
For pride, for himself, for whatever reason he wants to say, he wants Michael looking at him.   
  
Unfortunately, as the hours pass, it doesn’t seem like he’s coming. “Maybe he discovered AA,” Maria suggests.  
  
“Or someone else’s bed,” Alex replies miserably, turning on the stool to get up, wishing that Michael didn’t keep spiraling like this. What he’s not expecting to see is Murphy standing in the door of the Wild Pony, a wary look on his face. Alex nods to get Maria’s attention. “What’s he doing here?”  
  
Actually, the question he wants to know is ‘what’s he doing here without Michael?’  
  
“Alex Manes?” Murphy asks, walking over to him.  
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“Michael’s outside,” Murphy says, looking him over with a soft huff. “Okay, I get why he’s still sitting in his truck.”  
  
Alex exchanges a confused look with Maria. This whole thing is weird, because Michael’s ex-something is currently looking for him and Alex has absolutely no idea what the fuck is going on. “Sorry, what the hell is happening?”  
  
“Michael’s outside in his truck. I caught him on my way in, he said to come talk to Alex Manes, see if he’d go outside and talk to him there.”  
  
Alex gives Maria a wary look, not sure what’s happening. He’s not sure he likes it either, because this kind of sounds like the start of him being kidnapped, but what’s the alternative? He just ignores it? He finishes his beer and gestures to his seat to give to Murphy, who seems all too happy to sit down and flirt with Maria (and his friend, traitor, pushes Alex to go see what’s wrong, occupying Murphy with conversation).  
  
He wanders outside to see Michael parked in the corner. If he thinks about it, he kind of thinks he’d been parked there when Alex had turned up, even.   
  
Walking over, he leans his forearms on Michael’s rolled-down window, raising both his eyebrows. “I was summoned?”  
  
“Yeah. Fuck,” Michael hisses. “It’s even better up close.”  
  
His brows creep up even higher, which he didn’t think they could do. Alex gives him a speculative look and wonders how much Michael’s had to drink or whether he’s been hitting the acetone too hard. He sighs and leans forward on his forearms, giving Michael a wary look. “What the hell is going on?”  
  
“I know,” Michael starts, his voice low and rough, “I know I’ve been kind of shitty lately.”  
  
“Slutty or shitty?”  
  
“Come the fuck on, you’re gonna get pissed at me for sleeping with people? I’m not with anyone,” Michael protests and Alex holds up his hands to allow it to slide because Michael’s right, it’s not like anyone is dating. “So, I’ve been shitty lately and drinking too much and yeah, maybe I’ve been a little free and loose with the sex, but then Murph comes back to town and you turn up tonight looking like that…”   
  
Alex feels his heart clench in his chest. Maybe it’s because he can hear the turmoil in Michael’s voice.  
  
“Do you wanna go for a ride?”  
  
“We can’t just pretend things are fine because I wore one decent pair of jeans?” Alex protests quietly, even though every ounce of him wants this. Why else would he dress up like this, if not for this specific end goal?   
  
Michael shrugs, looking sad and pathetic. “I know,” he admits. “Murphy told me I needed to get my head out of my ass, that I had people who cared about me, as friends.” Alex knows he cares a whole lot more, but he lets Michael speak. “So, I’m saying let’s go for a ride and talk. Tomorrow, maybe you can wear that really soft black sweater and we can talk. And the day after that,” Michael says, reaching for his cowboy hat to set it on the dash, “you could wear anything you want and we can talk then, too.”  
  
Alex’s smile softens and he nods, gesturing to the passenger seat. “That seat taken?”  
  
“Only by you.”  
  
So Alex, despite all his better senses, gets in. They do talk. What’s more surprising is that they  _only_  talk, but it’s good. It’s clear Michael is still wildly fucked up, but that’s okay too. Alex isn’t exactly a shining paragon of mental health these days either.   
  
They talk. They go for more rides and they keep talking.   
  
It’s not three nights later. It’s not three weeks later. It’s three months later when they go for a ride, but at the end of it, Alex decides to wear nothing at all when they get back to the cabin. From the look on Michael’s face when he wanders inside and sees Alex laid on the bed in the moonlight, he feels fairly confident that Murphy over at the dairy isn’t going to be getting any attention this season.  
  
That’s more than fine for Alex, who’s coming around to the ‘better’ part of ‘for better or worse’ these days. 


	34. kyle's plan to induce malex (with kissing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Kyle make out in order to make Michael jealous; it definitely does something to him and jealousy is only the start.

“Kyle, this is a bad idea,” Alex protests as he tugs on Kyle’s sleeve before he can be lead into the Pony. When Kyle had suggested this, Alex had gone along with it because he’d been drunk. He’ll stand by that. This is why he and Kyle shouldn’t sit around the cabin and drink until they come up with these ideas.  
  
The thing is, now that they’re sober, Kyle is still willing and Alex isn’t, which is the kind of turnabout that he’s not really sure he knows how to process.  
  
“Drastic times,” Kyle reminds him.  
  
“Call it drastic measures, sure, but this feels apocalyptic,” Alex protests, digging his heels into the ground.  
  
He is  _convinced_  that Kyle’s plan to make out at the Pony in front of Michael to make him jealous is only going to cause a fistfight and will probably only hurt Michael’s feelings, seeing as he’s still uneasy around Kyle. Even though Alex doesn’t need to fight for Michael – what with him and Maria settling into a deep friendship that excludes the bedroom – that also didn’t mean that Michael had turned up on his cabin’s doorstep.  
  
So Alex has been getting drunk with Kyle and lamenting the fact that Michael is single and won’t give them a chance, which had resulted in this terrible, awful, horrible, tempting, incredible, hopeful plan. Instead of giving Michael time and being mature about this, Kyle wants to light a match on a kerosene fire.  
  
Worse, he doesn’t look like he’s going to take no for an answer.  
  
Alex sends off a quick text to Michael, not sure if he’ll get it in time. Seeing as Kyle is literally dragging him by the arm, he only has time to get out a few ominous words of warning:  _I never agreed to this. Sorry, sorry, sorry._  
  
Maybe if he gets Maria’s attention. he can somehow warn her that something is happening? Maybe if other people are looking, that lizard part of Kyle’s brain will kick in and his self-preservation will sway him away from the plan.  
  
“Hey, Maria!” Alex calls over, pleading and desperate.   
  
The only thing it does is get both Maria and Michael’s attention (from where they’d been playing poker, by the looks of it). Given the sound of triumph that Kyle makes beside him, that’s a bad sign.  
  
Because,  _oh shit_ , all he’s done is make sure that he has the attention of the one man that Kyle wants looking.   
  
Please let Michael have gotten his text, that’s all he can hope for.   
  
Alex gives in and lets Kyle grab him by the face, hauling him in for a kiss that’s actually a lot better than he expected it to be, so maybe Alex can at least take the win out of this that’s knowing that whatever homophobic instincts Kyle used to hold are truly gone. Still, kiss-via-Kyle leaves him floundering, arms flying out because he’s not sure what to do with them.  
  
There’s no tongue. Kyle doesn’t slip it, Alex doesn’t encourage it, but Kyle seems pretty pleased with himself as he backs away with a smug look on his face.  
  
With a quick glance to the side, he sees Maria’s faint amusement, but the look on Michael’s face is…well, Kyle might need to think about taking a few steps back before he becomes a Kyle-shaped hole in the wall. Alex swallows back any words and decides to let Kyle think that he’s done a good job, patting him on the shoulder before he heads to the bar.  
  
“Whiskey,” he requests, because he has to live with knowing what it’s like to kiss Kyle. Or, rather, know what it’s like when Kyle is trying to play-kiss him to make someone jealous.  
  
He’d almost have preferred a real kiss.  
  
Michael’s nostrils are flaring, similar to the way they had in the tool shed a very long time ago, but Alex calmly sips his drink and turns to face him. Maybe Kyle’s idea hadn’t been so bad? Maybe that stupid idea of his had some merit. “Guerin,” he says calmly, like he hadn’t been flailing around stupidly a few moments ago.   
  
Michael says nothing, shoving back from the bar and storming towards the bathroom. Alex casts a look at Maria with confusion, not sure what the hell happened there.   
  
“See,” Kyle says, draping an arm around Alex’s shoulders as he joins him at the bar. “It worked.”  
  
“Yeah,” Maria scoffs. “Making him watch one of his deepest fears really worked.”  
  
Sometimes, Alex forgets that while he knows Michael Guerin in and out in a lot of ways, there’s one area he doesn’t and it apparently revolves around Kyle Valenti and jealousy. Alex brushes Kyle’s hand from his shoulder, but he pauses because maybe this is going to work.   
  
“The plan was stupid,” he criticizes, “but,” he sighs, “I think it worked. Thanks.”  
  
He heads to the bathroom to find Michael looking at his texts. Locking the door behind him, he presses his back to it and lets Michael burn out his frustrations in silence for a long moment.   
  
“I got your text,” Michael finally says, sliding his phone into his back pocket. “Not sure it made me feel any better, seeing as having to watch Valenti try and give you romantic CPR in front of the whole bar is kind of one of my waking nightmares.”  
  
“Yeah,” is all Alex manages. “Funny. You and Maria making out is one of mine.”  
  
Michael looks suitably stung, but fair’s fair. Even if Michael and Maria had only danced around one another for a few weeks, Alex feels like they need to put these things on the same level.   
  
“It’s over.”  
  
“You say that a lot,” Alex comments pointedly. “Look, I just wanted to apologize. Kyle’s just trying to help, because he knows that I still want you and that you seem to need some kind of shove. The kiss was a bad idea,” he promises. “I know that. He knows it, deep down. I just wanted to tell you that I was sorry and that I’ll give you the space you need, but that I’m not going to stop sticking around, that I’m still ready to keep fighting. And when you’re ready…”  
  
Michael looks at him longingly, but says nothing.  
  
Alex nods and breathes out slowly, unlocking the bathroom door to head back to the bar. He’s not expecting anything to have come out of Kyle’s misguided attempt at a favor, so when he feels someone grab his wrist, it’s a shock.   
  
When Michael pulls him back into his arms, then slides a palm around Alex’s neck to tug him towards his body, it’s more than a shock, it’s an electrified wire. He stumbles forward until he’s pressed flush against Michael’s body, his hips rocking forward against Michael’s jeans and the stupid belt buckle as he kisses him deeply. Alex digs his fingers into Michael’s curls and parts his lips, an invitation for more that Michael happily takes.  
  
They could be kissing for seconds, minutes,  _hours._ He doesn’t know. All that he knows is that when he pulls away, his lips feel like they’re throbbing (maybe from that little nip Michael gave him at the end). Stunned, he’s frozen in place when Michael finally releases him and heads to the bar to take the stool beside Kyle.  
  
“Whatever Kyle wants next, on the house,” Michael says gruffly. “Seeing as he reminded me that I can’t let just anyone kiss Alex, especially not when they’re so bad at it.” He glances over his shoulder and gives Alex a fond smile. “If any man deserves to be kissed well, it’s that one.”  
  
His cheeks red, Alex lets out a heady laugh, like he can’t believe that Kyle’s stupid plan  _worked_.  
  
Drastic times, indeed.


	35. unsent drunken texts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael keeps writing drunken texts that stay in his draft, but after one blackout night, he goes to Alex to say some of those unsaid things.

When Michael wakes up, it’s to nearly fifty texts in his drafts. They’re all unsent, but they paint a very vivid picture. Sitting up slowly, he groans as he glances behind him to make sure he didn’t bring anyone home last night after a blackout night at the Pony, but luckily he’d been both smart enough to come home alone, but also not to send any of the texts.  
  
Staring at them, he reaches for a bottle of acetone, because hair of the dog is a necessity if he’s going to cope with this.  
  
They’re mostly to Alex. Early in the night, there’s a few drafts for Isobel ( _what was w/ ur weird muppet vest the other nite? did you skin fozzy bear?_ ) and then a few to Liz (i _need u to know that if u call me mikey in front of witnesses, i will crush u w/ my brain)_.  
  
From there, it looks like he’d had a little too much to drink and had gone one-track mind.  
  
Alex-minded, more like.   
  
 _u know what i miss, i miss the way you kissed my neck_  
  
 _fuck, how come we only ever woke up together once?_  
  
 _i miss you_  
  
 _ilu_  
  
They go on like that, and on, and just when Michael thinks that his parade of pathetic pining is over, he scrolls down and finds some more. Grabbing a bunch of his curls in his hand, his only relief is that the messages are all sitting in his drafts, so even drunk, he had some sense. He groans and collapses back on the bed.   
  
He knows he’s not doing so well, not since Max, but this is a new low. When he hadn’t been able to explain to Maria how his hand had healed, that relationship had grown complicated too, and he’d cowardly bolted from going down that road because the last thing he needs is yet another complicated thing that makes him feel like shit.  
  
His drunk self doesn’t agree, it looks like.   
  
There’s a few texts to Maria in there, but they’re mostly apologies, the kind of drunken sad ones that radiate regret. He definitely didn’t text  _i want to lick every inch of your body_  to her the way that he had to Alex.   
  
For a few hours, he hydrates and drinks acetone until he feels like he can move a few steps without puking.   
  
Once his head is clear, Michael has the feeling that he needs to talk to Alex. He brings up a brand new message and texts Alex to ask if he can come by the cabin to speak to him. He sends this one, and this is the one that gets an instant reply.  
  
 **only if you bring coffee**  
  
Right. Coffee run it is.  
  
He drops by the Crashdown to get Alex’s usual and then adds two extra espresso shots to his own order before he makes the drive out to the cabin, caffeinating until he’s jittery. He owes Alex a lot – apologies, explanations, actual lines of honest communication – but right now, he just needs to sort out his head so he doesn’t have nights like last night.   
  
“Hey!” Michael calls out, letting himself in the cabin. Alex has already said that he can come and go as he pleases, which would be exciting if it weren’t for the fact that he’d also made keys for Liz and Kyle and said the same thing. He’s no better than a friend, right now, which is the bed he’s made and has to lie in.  
  
He can hear rustling from the bedroom and Michael heads to the door to see Alex finishing with his prosthetic, fiddling with some of the adjustments.   
  
“Coffee,” Michael says, setting it on the nightstand beside Alex since his hands are busy. He’s nervous and a bit frantic, and he puts his phone down on the nightstand beside the coffee because he’s worried that he’s going to press the wrong button and send all those drafts, seeing as they’re open so Michael can let his eyes skim over them to remind himself why he’s here. He navigates back to the home screen, lingering at the edge of the bed, trying not to think about Alex getting  _undressed_  instead of this.  
  
He wants to talk about the messages in his phone, wants to show Alex and talk about how much he still wants to be with him, but not yet. Michael decides that he needs a minute to collect himself. He can talk to Alex about it, he can, he just needs a  _minute.  
_  
“Hey, can I use the bathroom?”  
  
Alex nods, distracted with the latches, cursing under his breath. Michael takes advantage to bolt for the bathroom, where he spends a good five minutes staring at his reflection in the mirror, telling himself that he can do this. He’s here to talk, that’s all. They’re not ending things, no one is walking away, and they can be mature adults about this.  
  
When another few minutes pass, Michael figures that either he’s got to get out there or Alex is going to think he only came over to the cabin to abuse bathroom privileges.   
  
When he leaves the bathroom, it’s to the sight of Alex with Michael’s phone.   
  
“Fuck!” he can’t help his automatic reaction on the heels of a panicked noise, and the severity and suddenness of it makes Alex nearly fumbles the phone.   
  
“Sorry,” Alex says. “Sorry, it was ringing and I saw it was Isobel, so I was trying to silence it, only I think it shifted to your messages and I…” Guilt flashes over his face. “I saw the messages. The drafts.”  
  
That wouldn’t just be there. That means that Alex had to go looking for them. “Why would you…?”  
  
“Because last night, I got this  _one_  random text from you, and it looked like it was part of something else and I…” Alex gives him an apologetic look. “What you wrote me was pretty safe. It just said something about my mouth, how you missed it when I was reading something and i started mouthing the words out loud. I didn’t really think much about it, because it was kind of really badly typed and I know that you’ve been drinking, lately.”  
  
Understatement.  
  
“Guerin,” Alex exhales. “You’re not the only one with unsent, unspoken words. I just never know how to bring them up.” He gives him an unsure look as he steadies his weight on the prosthetic, standing carefully (with Michael’s help as he reaches out to hold onto him). “Is that why you’re here? To talk about them?”  
  
He nods. “I think it says something about the fact that I wrote more than ten times the texts to you than I did to anyone else. I’m glad my finger only slipped the once, that some part of my brain knew it wasn’t right to send them to you, but I’m here because it also says that there’s something still there.”  
  
Michael’s in pain and fighting grief and it’s not that he wants to use Alex as a bandage, but maybe part of his grief is because of the wound that he and Alex never let heal.  
  
Alex reaches for the coffee and Michael’s phone, handing the latter out to him.   
  
“Look,” Alex says quietly, “when you’re ready, send me the texts. Okay? I don’t want there to be things unsaid between us. Not anymore. I also don’t want you to think that you have to keep drinking instead of talking to me. So…” He reaches over to squeeze Michael’s shoulder. “Think about it?”  
  
Michael nods, feeling like he’s been struck mute. It’s a terrifying ask, but it’s one that he knows will take them to a new level – a better place, even. All it will take is some courage, some honesty, and some willingness to try; on both their parts.   
  
“Come on,” Alex breaks into that unnerving silence. “Since you’re here, I was gonna clean out the eaves today and…” He waggles his brows at him, tapping his temple.  
  
Michael huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, my alien powers were definitely meant to clean out blockages.”  
  
“You’re here,” Alex points out. “And you brought me coffee. It’s up to you.”  
  
Because Michael is a sucker and because it’s better than obsessing over all those unsent messages, he does stay and he uses his powers to help clean the eaves of the cabin. His phone is in his pocket and it feels like it’s burning a hole, but he’ll figure it out. He even thinks soon, because it feels like he’s sitting on a landmine and at this point, he’d rather it just go off.   
  
*  
  
It turns out that Michael doesn’t need much time to figure his shit out.  
  
He knows that he’s not automatically healed. He knows this won’t fix everything and that he has a lot of damage to undo both with Maria and Alex, for what he’d done. Still, he also knows that the only way out is through and if that way happens to end with Alex at the finish line, then he definitely wants to pursue it. He’d come over to Alex’s place with coffee again, because yesterday after they’d finished with the eaves, Alex had mentioned something about needing to dig out the foundation to repair a crack.  
  
So here he is, ready to work, and ready for other things, too.  
  
The next day, Michael presses a button and sends all his drafts. He takes immense joy in hearing Alex’s phone going wild with notifications, combined with the strangled sound that Alex makes from the kitchen that tells Michael that he’s read all of them, including the filthy batch that Michael had drafted nearer to the end of the night.   
  
That smug feeling of victory evaporates when his own phone goes wild with alerts and he sees his inbox:  
  
 **278 unread messages from Alex Manes  
**  
It looks like he’s not the only one with things unsaid. Grinning as he catches Alex’s eye, he can feel his heart pounding in his chest.   
  
“No more unspoken words?” Alex suggests.   
  
That’s a promise Michael can definitely make. “No more.”


	36. mylex to malex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adrenaline of their circumstances brought the three of them together, but as time goes on Michael and Alex start to get jealous of the other's time with Kyle, and Kyle also begins to notice that what he has with each of them isn't what they have with each other.

“Hey! I’m home!”  
  
Alex wanders inside with the bag of groceries and sets it on the counter, waiting for Michael or Kyle to come greet him, but there’s a resounding silence that unsettles him in a way he can’t describe. They’ve been together for a few months, once they invited Kyle into their bed and it had been too comfortable to even think about asking him to go.  
  
Now, though, Alex is starting to have second thoughts.  
  
He digs out his phone to send a text to both Kyle and Michael, though it’s Michael who answers first:  _Picking up beers. Be home soon. xx_  
  
Alex opens the fridge and finds plenty of beer. At least, his and Michael’s beers, which means that they’d gone out to get Kyle’s. It should be fine. It’s just beer, after all, and so what if they’ve gone together? It’s good that they’re keeping one another company. It’s just that Alex had thought with two boyfriends, he wouldn’t have to worry about coming home to an empty house.  
  
Here he is, though.  
  
He finishes dinner before they’re back, the enchiladas sitting on the stovetop and getting colder by the minute. Alex pokes at them and then decides to eat, because sitting around and waiting seems somehow much more depressing.   
  
When they come back, their laughter and conversation is loud. It makes Alex’s nerves rub the wrong way, even if he’s not entirely sure he understands why. They’re joking and there’s even a few feet between them, so clearly it’s not like he’s  _jealous_.  
  
It’s just that he didn’t like coming back to an empty house.  
  
That’s it. That’s all.   
  
*  
  
“You know, you could be up there with him,” Isobel says, glancing to where Kyle and Alex are dancing around to some awful emo band that Alex used to love. He’s on his third beer of the night, but it’s not quelling that strange pit in his stomach that he can’t put a finger on.  
  
Michael’s fine to let Alex and Kyle spend time together.   
  
He doesn’t even like to dance, so he’s happy that they’ve got Kyle around to pick up the slack where Michael doesn’t want to spend his time. It’s just bugging him to hear people commenting about how Alex and his boyfriend look hot together, especially Michael is sitting right there.  
  
“Nah,” Michael says sharply, because he doesn’t want to get into how complicated his feelings are. His eyes linger on Alex as he drinks from his beer, trying to quiet the stupid voice in his head that thinks that this is all a mistake.  
  
He doesn’t want to be out there dancing and looking like an idiot. He reserves that for really drunken karaoke nights and three beers is nowhere near the alcohol level he requires to be doing that.   
  
Isobel levels a look on him and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think that she’s inside his head. “Michael,” she chastises quietly. “If you don’t want to be with both of them, maybe you shouldn’t have let him come in your bed.”  
  
“I let him come in my bed plenty, that part’s not the problem,” he quips.  
  
And it’s not. Sex with Kyle is  _good_. It’s nice to have someone else to help him take Alex apart and make him feel like he deserves every ounce of pleasure that they can give him. The problem is outside of the bedroom when he watches how Kyle gently touches Alex’s back, coaxes him close, and makes Michael feel like the worst boyfriend in the world.  
  
He’s never going to be Kyle Valenti.   
  
He used to think that was a good thing. Now, he’s beginning to understand that maybe it’s a shitty shortfall.   
  
Without giving any warning, he pays his tab and heads outside to take a piss in the alley, hearing Alex’s voice as he goes asking where he’d gone. He’ll go back inside eventually, he just needs a few minutes to himself to stop the rampant jealousy from being completely clear on his face.   
  
Is he really going to be the asshole who asks Alex to go back on what they’d offered to Kyle? It feels wrong, but at the same time, he misses those tender moments when it was just him and Alex, misses those quiet connections that they’d started to have.  
  
With Kyle, it’s fun and sexy and exciting.  
  
Maybe Michael’s ready for something a little more serious now. Maybe it’s time to settle down. He’s just not so sure he’s ready to do that with two people, when he’s only desperately in love with one of them.  
  
*  
  
Weeks later, they’re having a peaceful night together at home when it hits him that with the music playing lightly, the moonlight shining through their window, and Michael acting as a space-heater, it’s the best night they’ve had in a while.   
  
“Something’s not working, is it?” Alex says quietly in bed one night when Kyle is at the hospital, working a double shift. The problem is that without him there, it feels  _fine_. He’s spooning Michael from behind with his good leg wrapped around him and his arm pulling him flush against Alex’s body.   
  
They fit together and as much as it had been exciting to have Kyle around, to see what they were like with a third, Alex is starting to figure some things out.  
  
For instance, Kyle is absolutely his best friend. He’s a great kisser, he’s thoughtful, and he’s actually a good boyfriend. Alex just isn’t so sure that he’s the right boyfriend for him. Maybe Michael has a different opinion, which makes a jealous spark flare in him.   
  
Michael gives a soft hum.   
  
“You wanna switch?” he mumbles, shifting to take over being big spoon. “This working any better for you?”  
  
“That’s not what I meant,” Alex protests, but he’s also sinking back into Michael’s arms. There’s a long pause as he tries to figure out how to put it into words. “I’m starting to think that maybe our bed fits two better than three.” He bows his head down, pressing a kiss to Michael’s neck to try and stop feeling like an asshole.   
  
Michael doesn’t reply for a long time and Alex immediately thinks that he’s fucked up.  
  
Then, he hears a quiet, “I thought it was just me.”  
  
“We’re shitty people, aren’t we?”  
  
Michael turns Alex around so that they’re facing one another. He slides his thumb up and down Alex’s bicep as they curl up together, talking about how they both made a mistake. “It seemed like the right thing at the time, but maybe everything was so crazy after Caulfield. He seemed like he’d be good for us, a way to get us together without fucking it up.”  
  
“So you’re saying we used him,” Alex echoes, feeling hollow and empty for that. “I don’t want to hurt him, especially if you’ve got feelings for him. Are you in love with him?”  
  
“I care about him,” Michael admits, but he shakes his head slowly. “I don’t love him like I do you. Same as I didn’t love Maria how I do you. What about you?”  
  
“It was nice, seeing my old crush in action, but…”  
  
Alex knows what Michael is saying.  
  
“With you, it feels easy and right. With Kyle, I’m always worried. I’m always thinking about how to be on, and I get jealous when it’s the two of you, and I don’t think that’s healthy.” Alex rubs a hand over Michael’s back. “I want to be with you, and I think that I only want to be with you.”   
  
So they should talk to Kyle.   
  
Eventually.  
  
“We’ll figure it out,” Michael promises, drifting in to press a kiss to Alex’s lips. “Okay? I promise. Now, go to sleep, because I’m mostly there,” is a barely coherent mumble before he slips off, snuffling and curling up into Alex’s arms.   
  
As usual, it doesn’t take long for Alex to follow suit, drifting off into the comfortable heat of Michael’s body and the steady thrum of his heartbeat that acts like a white noise machine that steadies him as he drifts off. At some point in the night, Kyle must have come home, because Alex can feel his warmth at his back. He reaches back to press a hand to his hip, but guilt floods him and he pulls his hand back. How can he have thoughts like the ones he’s been having and still get to touch him?   
  
He needs to do something about it in the morning, before this goes too far.  
  
Right now, he’ll take one more night.   
  
*  
  
The next morning at breakfast, there are pancakes waiting for them, and Kyle is fully dressed. Michael knows that something’s up, because he never puts himself together so nicely like that unless he has something to talk about and the pancakes look like a bribe.   
  
“What’s going on?” he asks warily, even if he’s already cutting into the stack of pancakes. Kyle might look like he wants to talk, but he’s also a decent cook and Michael’s starving.  
  
Kyle is fidgeting with the spatula, looking unsure.   
  
Alex wanders out of the bedroom with his crutch, stopping in his tracks. “Why are you making Jim’s bad news pancakes?”  
  
Michael mouths ‘bad news pancakes’, because he didn’t realize that could be a thing. He settles on the counter, watching Kyle continue to fixate on the pancakes, clearly more intrigued with them than making any eye contact.   
  
“I wanted to talk to the both of you.”  
  
“Okay,” Alex says warily. “About…?”  
  
Michael catches Alex’s eye, wondering if Kyle had overheard them last night. Instantly, panic floods him, but Kyle seems pretty together about whatever it is he wants to say, so maybe bad news pancakes are because he has to work another double shift.  
  
“When we got together, started doing this thing, it was the most terrifying and exciting thing,” Kyle starts. “I don’t think I’ve ever had sex with anyone like the two of you and things are always  _fun_.” He stares at the pan. “That’s the problem, though. I don’t think the three of us, together, ever got past fun. You two did,” he says, gesturing with the spatula. “With me around, you started talking and going on dates. I see you two and the way you look at one another, and sometimes you forget there’s anyone else in the world, including me.”  
  
He nods, his lips turned downwards, but after a long beat, he carries on.  
  
“So I think we need to break up,” Kyle says. “Because I need to be in a relationship that’s more than fun. It was good, though, having it,” he admits, “and I’m gonna miss the hell out of my alien space heater, but I think it’s my turn to find someone who looks at me like I hung the moon.”   
  
“Kyle…” Alex trails off, and Michael hopes he’s not about to go back on what they talked about. “Are you sure?”  
  
“Am I sure that you two love each other more than you’ll ever be able to love me?” He gives a derisive scoff. “It stings the ego, but yeah. Yeah, I’m pretty sure. I don’t regret any of it, because you both taught me some  _incredible_  new tricks and it’s been good, becoming better friends with both of you, but I think it’s time that we all move on.”  
  
He hands a plate of pancakes to Alex, topping up the ones on Michael’s plate.  
  
It turns out that the bad news pancakes lived up to their name.   
  
What’s worse is that Michael hates that he feels a little relieved that Kyle’s managed to get on the same page with them. Maybe, in the end, they really are so much in sync that they even know when their relationship has to gravitate back to something else.  
  
“If you two fuck it up, though, I’m moving in on one of you,” Kyle warns, pouring syrup on the pancakes.   
  
Alex gives him an amused look, and his laugh breaks the tension in the kitchen. “You’re not even going to tell us which one?”  
  
“Gotta keep some mystery in the romance,” is Kyle’s reply, and while his smile is tense, there’s something in the air that feels like relief, as if all three of them have been shouldering this too long and have finally taken the weight off their backs.   
  
Besides, Michael already knows who Kyle would go after.   
  
It’s why he has to work extra hard to make sure he never gives him a chance to make that move on Alex, and he intends to make sure that he doesn’t fuck up, not this time.  
  
*  
  
Three months later, they turn up to the Wild Pony to see Kyle in a booth with Isobel, the both of them laughing and looking like they’re having a great time. Michael isn’t so sure how he feels about it, but Isobel definitely deserves some fun and Kyle…well, Michael knows how much he deserves.  
  
Alex rests his hand at the small of his back, pressing lightly to remind him that they’re not lingering.  
  
“Don’t wanna intrude,” Michael says. “Just checking that you two are having fun?”  
  
Kyle glances at Isobel and his smile softens a little before he looks back at Alex and Michael. “Yeah,” he agrees, nodding and turning to give Isobel a longer look. “I think a little bit more than fun, but we’ll see.”  
  
“We will,” Isobel agrees and swivels to look at Michael. “Away, go,” she shoos him off. “Or I’m gonna make Kyle tell me all your dirty sex secrets.”  
  
“And there a lot,” Kyle jokes.  
  
Michael narrows his eyes, debating unloading some of Kyle’s worst habits to Isobel, but before he gets the chance, Alex tugs him away from the happy blossoming couple, even though Michael makes a protesting noise because Alex is taking all the fun away from him.  
  
“Let your sister and our ex try this out,” Alex whispers, hooking his fingers in Michael’s belt loops. “I have something much more interesting in mind for us.” His gaze slides down to Michael’s lips, then over to the bathrooms, nodding with a raise of his brow.  
  
“I think I can do that.”  
  
Because this works. The two of them together, now that they’ve figured it out, it works, and it sucks that they had to fuck things up with Kyle to get there, but Michael has to hope that whatever fledgling romance he’s found with Isobel makes up for it. Letting Alex tug him along, Michael knows he’s where he’s meant to be and with the person he’s meant to be with.   
  
Someone who hung the moon, the stars, and the whole galaxy.  
  
Michael really does hope that Kyle and Isobel are that for each other, because they’re his two other favorite people in the world. They deserve happiness, even if he’s not going to be the one able to give it to them – at least, not in that way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With that, that's actually all the prompt fills that I've had, so at this moment, this work can be considered complete as everything else I have will get its own post. Thank you for everyone who prompted things and I absolutely adored writing them!


	37. noah/michael: noah latches onto michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Instead of hearing Isobel’s “psychic scream” first in the desert, Noah hears Michael’s.

“Michael, where’d you go last night?”  
  
His head is aching and Michael’s rubbing at his forearm. It’s the strangest thing to lose time the way he has, especially since he’s been doing it ever since he was twelve and his foster parents started to perform exorcisms on him. Maybe they weren’t wrong, because it had been like someone else had been in his head, keeping him company.   
  
It had kept him sane, right up until he’d met Alex. They’ve been dating for a few years now. Michael had turned down his full ride after the night with Rosa, but he’d managed to plead for Alex to stay with him. He always felt in control with Alex around. He never used to blackout with Alex.  
  
Until now.  
  
“I…” Michael opens his mouth, then realizes that he can’t explain it. Instead of offering some shitty lie, he doesn’t say anything at all.   
  
Maybe if it were the first time, then Alex would be fine with it. Maybe it would be okay. Only, it’s the third blackout this week and Michael can’t explain any of it. He wants to, god, he wants to, but when Alex looks at him for an explanation, Michael’s got nothing.  
  
“I was out drinking,” he says instead, because it’s better than telling Alex how absolutely out of control he is.   
  
Unfortunately, it’s not what Alex wants to hear. His face falls, like somehow Michael’s behavior is all Alex’s fault. “I think maybe we should spent the night apart,” Alex says quietly, staring forward at the wall, like he’s scared to look at Michael. “Since you seem to want the time.”  
  
“Alex,” Michael begs.   
  
“Later, Guerin,” Alex says, and though his voice is soft, he hasn’t called him ‘Guerin’ in years. It’s so harsh that Michael recoils back with the ache of it, and he flexes his hands as he rises to his feet.   
  
He needs to be anywhere but here, that’s what he’s hearing.   
  
Might as well go live the lie.   
  
“Guerin,” DeLuca warns when he walks into the Pony.  
  
“What! I’m legal now,” he complains, because he’s been twenty-one for weeks and he has every right to be here as much as the next man. He settles in on the stool and she even serves him a beer, even if she glares at him (maybe Alex already called her, maybe she can just smell it on him), resigning himself to a miserable night.  
  
For a long while, it is. He drinks and mopes, then mopes and drinks. He wants to go back to Alex and explain everything, but that’d mean having to tell him about the whole alien thing, and he’s not sure he’s ready for that. Instead, he drinks, and he sulks, because he wants to go back to his boyfriend and their warm, inviting bed. He doesn’t want to be here, but he deserves it, doesn’t he?  
  
He’s a liar and a bad one, but Alex still doesn’t want to see him. He thinks that Michael is hiding something.  
  
The worst part is how right he is.  
  
He’s so distracted that he doesn’t even notice until the last minute when a warm hand slides over his neck, down his arm, and the man who belongs to that hand takes the seat next to him. “Couldn’t help noticing a handsome man like you all alone in a bar like this,” he says, as charming as Michael’s ever been approached.  
  
His heart starts pounding faster for the sight of the handsome man sitting with him. He hasn’t felt like this since he first met Alex, but it’s like he  _knows_ him somehow. It’s like this man is connected to Michael’s soul, somehow, some way.  
  
“Who says I’m alone now? I got you,” he quips.  
  
“You absolutely do.” It’s said like a promise, with stern intent behind each word. “I’m Noah. It’s  _wonderful_  to finally meet you.”


	38. michael can't get over "loved you"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is hurt about the ’loved’ in Alex's junkyard proclamation and needs to clear the air to make sure Alex understands it's not all past tense for him.

History was always Michael’s least favorite subject at Roswell High.  
  
For one, he’s not human, so why should he care what they did a hundred years ago or a thousand. This planet isn’t his planet, their history doesn’t belong to him, and what’s done is done. Past tense is boring because it means you can’t do anything about it.  
  
Now, in the junkyard, hearing Alex Manes say “I loved you” makes him hate history even more. It’s past tense, it implies that he doesn’t, and when he says that Michael loved him too (past, that awful, reeking, terrible tense), it takes all his energy not to freeze up. So the, “Yeah,” is a full body exhalation, pained and tormented, because he doesn’t know what else he can say.  
  
Then he bears his soul to Alex, reveals every last secret, and then Alex…  
  
Well, he walks away.  
  
It’s not exactly the destruction that Michael had pictured, but it feels as bad as any apocalypse might.  
  
Michael spends the rest of his day fixated on history and fixing Maria’s necklace. By the time the clasp is fixed, he’s squeezed his hand around it so often that it’s made an imprint into his palm, and oddly, it kind of makes him feel a little sick. That, or maybe it’s the implication that Alex kept using the past tense when he’d been talking about them.  
  
It’s not right.  
  
Michael needs to tell him how not right it is, but in order to do that, he needs to go see Alex, which is the exact moment he realizes that he doesn’t actually know where Alex is living these days.  
  
Shit.  
  
It looks like he needs the big guns for that.  
  
He heads to the Pony with the necklace, thinking that maybe him fixing something for Maria will earn him a favor, even if he’s not sure how he feels about going to see her with the awkwardness of the ‘what happened in Texas’ moment living between them, especially now that Alex knows.  
  
“We’re closed,” Maria says, when Michael wanders up behind her and she catches him in the mirror.  
  
He lets the necklace drop from his palm, hoping that maybe it’ll buy him a few minutes.  
  
“My necklace,” Maria says, patting her chest and staring at it. “Guerin…”  
  
“The clasp was broken, so I fixed it.” It was about the one broken thing he actually could fix. “Not to make it seem like I’m holding it hostage, but I kind of need something from you.”  
  
She looks at him warily, and he can see her lip curling up faintly, so maybe she thinks that he’s asking for something lurid and sexual, especially given Texas, but Michael needs to make sure they’re on the same page here.  
  
“I need to know where Alex is living.”  
  
Maria clearly hadn’t been expecting that. Her eyes widen in surprise as she reaches for her necklace, yanking it out of his palm. “He’s out at Jim Valenti’s cabin,” she responds as she sweeps her hair off the back of her neck, checking her reflection to make sure it’s on straight. “Why do you need to know?”  
  
It’s wrong to tell Maria about Alex being his guy without permission, but she’s not going to give him an exact address without a little more information. And, unfortunately, it’s not like he wants to go to Valenti and ask where his Dad’s place is.  
  
“Because,” Michael says, holding his breath before he pushes it out, along with all the words, “He thinks that I loved him. Past tense,” he manages, feeling uncomfortable. “And he said that he loved me. Also, past tense,” he clarifies. “Except I never fucking stopped. It’s been past, present, future, unconditional,” he admits feeling so wound up that his body is practically vibrating with it.  
  
Maria’s staring at him like she’s not sure she understands.  
  
And then, suddenly, it’s like the scales drop from her eyes.  
  
“That hopeful feeling, it’s been you,” she says, and she sounds almost hurt. “You could have told me that before you and I had a dusty Texas rounder,” she accuses.  
  
“He thinks it’s all past tense, remember?” Michael scoffs. “It probably is past tense for him. When we left for Texas, I stood right here, exactly where I am, and I begged him to really make it feel over, with fireworks and an explosion, and…and…”  
  
“Guerin,” Maria cuts him off.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Why are you assuming that he wants it to be over?”  
  
“Because he said loved, Maria. He loved me, past tense, and he thinks I loved him, and I did. I do. I will.” This seems like the wrong thing for him to end up obsessing over, but he is. Fuck, he is, because Michael has no idea what he can control in his life anymore, what with Isobel’s episodes, and the useless trip to Texas.  
  
The one thing he can control is how much he loves Alex.  
  
And Alex loved him, once, and Michael needs to know why he doesn’t still love him anymore.  
  
Maria’s giving him a sympathetic look, but there’s something else to it, a hint of the usual, You’re being an idiot Michael Guerin. There’s something else there, maybe some kind of disappointment, but Michael’s not sure he has it in him to be disappointing to this many people. The fun, flirty, fiery fuck they had in Texas had been a nice distraction, but he’s so occupied thinking about when Alex stopped loving him that he doesn’t even consider anything more.  
  
Maria sighs, finally, and reaches for a napkin and a sharpie she keeps under the counter, scribbling the address on it before handing it to Michael.  
  
Before he can take it, she yanks it back.  
  
“What the fuck?” he snaps.  
  
“The two of you need to sort this bullshit out,” she warns. “He’s sitting in my bar hopeful and in love. You’re coming at me obsessed because you think he stopped. You keep this up any longer, there are going to be casualties in the crossfire and you’d better not make me one of them,” she warns.  
  
She’s asking Michael to promise not to fuck something up.  
  
He’s fairly sure that’s not a guarantee he can make. “I’ll try,” he offers, because it’s probably as best as she’s going to get, but it’s not something to shy away from because from Michael Guerin, that’s a whole damn lot.  
  
Maria looks unsure whether she’s going to accept the answer, but relents as she lets him take the napkin. “He finds out I gave you the address, you’re banned for a week.”  
  
He snatches it away before she can change her mind, giving her a grateful nod. “Don’t worry, I’ll throw Valenti under the bus.” She’s trying not to look amused as he leaves the bar, but he sees it, which is how he knows he’s definitely going to do that whether he needs to or not.  
  
When he gets out to the cabin, the front porch light is on. So’s the lamp inside. Through the window, Michael can see Alex curled up, reading something, his hand absently touching his backpack every now and again. Michael thinks about installing curtains on the windows to keep peeping toms from staring inside.  
  
Not that anyone else is out here right now, so he’d pretty much be doing it to keep guys like him away. He spends a few more minutes judging the cabin for its architectural faults and its design flaws before he realizes exactly how much he’s procrastinating for no reason other than him not wanting to find out if Alex really did only mean loved in the past tense.  
  
Sitting here in the car alone isn’t going to do him any good, though.  
  
Michael bursts out of his car and heads to the front door before his courage can slip away from him, acting on a momentary instance of chaotic determination and the thought that maybe this won’t be so bad. It takes Alex a little while to open the door, accompanied by the slip shuffle and slide of a crutch and what sounds like his foot, before the door opens.  
  
Once it does, he wastes no time.  
  
“Guerin, what are you…?”  
  
Michael pushes inside to try and figure out what he wants to say. He can’t just barrel in and tell Alex that he needs to stop acting like they’re only history, all because it pisses him off. He wants to, but he can’t say it. Then again, why the fuck not?  
  
If Alex is tired of walking away and tired of not saying what he wants to say, then Michael is tired of Alex running to, what, protect him?  
  
“You said you loved me.”  
  
Alex looks stunned, taken aback. It looks like it’s not the accusation he’s been expecting. “Yeah,” he agrees, his voice hushed and soft. “I did.”  
  
Michael does his best not to flinch, but it’s like Alex has taken a rifle and shot holes through his heart. He tenses his jaw and he tries to steady himself, because he needs to know. “Loved,” he repeats. “Loved, as in past tense, as in you don’t love me anymore.”  
  
Alex stays quiet and Michael feels like he’s going to falter, but he’s here to speak his piece. It doesn’t matter if Alex stopped loving him along the way so long as Michael speaks from the heart. If it really is over, then he wants it to be on honest terms, which means Alex needs to understand how he feels.  
  
Michael takes in a steadying breath. “When did you stop?”  
  
“What?” Alex demands, staring at him.  
  
“When did you stop loving me, because I never stopped. I never look away, Alex, I never stopped wanting you, and I love you. It’s not loved, it’s love. It will be, it always will be.”  
  
That look in Alex’s eyes, like he’s about to cry, it isn’t going away. If anything, it only makes him look more wrecked. He looks shocked, bowled over, and he’s pressing his fingernails into his palm, staring worriedly at Michael. “I…”  
  
“Alex, look, if this is really over, then whimper or fireworks or whatever, just tell me that you only ever loved me and there’s no chance you could do it again. If that door is shut, really shut, then I’ll back off, but…”  
  
Alex’s gaze turns hopeful.  
  
“But what, Guerin?”  
  
“Do you think you could ever love me again, the way I love you?”  
  
Then, oh, then, Alex Manes fucking shatters Michael with only a few words.  
  
“You never look away, right?”  
  
Michael nods, wary of where this is going.  
  
“Well, I never stop loving you. Present tense. Future possible. Always.”  
  
Oh.  
  
Well, then. Maybe Michael can learn to appreciate history a little more if it happens to lead to this hopeful of a present, and a glimmer of a future that might not be so doomed to repeat their past mistakes. 


	39. witness protection au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex is put into a witness protection plan until he can testify against his father, but he's not expecting to meet such a hot curly-haired neighbor.

When they’d told Alex that he’d be going into witness protection until the trial, he can honestly say that he’d never expected  _this_  outcome.  
  
“Hi,” Alex says, staring at his new neighbor (his  _hot_  new neighbor), and wondering if Kyle is doing this to him on purpose. “I’m Michael Whitman,” he introduces himself, the name feeling wrong on his tongue.  
  
From the way the other man flinches, clearly something’s wrong with it. “Raf Anderson,” he replies. It’s only by the fact that he’s only known him for a few moments that Alex doesn’t make a comment that his neighbor doesn’t really look like a Raf.  
  
He’s not supposed to rock the boat, though.  
  
That’s what witness protection is about. He’s been put here for his own good to hide him away while the government begins to assemble a case against his father. With his father and his brothers and their deep connections, it hadn’t been safe for Alex to remain in Roswell, which means that he’s been ferried away into witness protection by an old friend.  
  
“Behave,” Kyle had warned, while his partner (Max) parked them in front of Alex’s new house. He’d handed him a pile of identity papers, giving him a stern look. “Alex,” he says sharply, when Alex buries himself in the papers.  
  
It’s not his fault he likes to learn. “Michael,” he says, lifting his new ID as he studies the face looking back at him next to a brand new name. It looks real, but that’s the point, isn’t it? He’s about to live a new life, if only to keep his father from finding him until Alex can take the stand and  _destroy his life_.  
  
“What?”  
  
“It’s Michael, now.”  
  
Max throws Kyle a dubious look. “Really?” he deadpans. “I guess you think that’s funny?”

“He deserves it,” Kyle hisses back, and Alex has completely missed the joke.  
  
And now here he is, on his first day inside a new bungalow in Pennsylvania, meeting his new neighbor. His  _hot_  new neighbor, who has warm brown eyes and hair that looks like it’ll get golden in the summer. Then there’s the fact that it’s curled, and when Raf lifts up the box he’s carrying, it highlights how broad and strong his shoulders are.  
  
“Do you want help?” he asks lamely, when Alex realizes he’s been standing there staring at his neighbor for an embarrassingly long time.  
  
Raf doesn’t seem to notice. He’s been doing his fair share of staring, and that’s why Alex hopes he doesn’t notice when he echoes the last word. “Help?”  
  
“Yeah, I saw the boxes,” Raf says, gesturing to the moving van with his shoulders, seeing as he’s weighed down by the boxes. “You’re moving in, right? You want help?”  
  
He knows that he’s probably not supposed to invite complete strangers into his home on the first day of his new assumed identity, but Alex is a sucker for a warm smile and kind eyes. There’s beer in his fridge, he’s not eager to put away all the boxes by himself, and if he’s going to be stuck here for the next few months, he wants to be able to befriend the hot neighbor.  
  
Ignoring the little Kyle voice in the back of his head that says this is a bad idea, Alex smiles warmly.  
  
He crouches to pick up one of the smaller boxes, and puts it atop the box that Raf already has in his hands.  
  
“Definitely,” he confirms. “How about we get these boxes inside, then maybe I can see if I’ve got a couple of beers in the fridge.”  
  
Raf heads inside and Alex glances over his shoulder to where he knows Kyle and Max are watching them. Is it childish to throw them a smirk seeing as he’s taking advantage of this whole new neighborhood situation? Maybe. Still doesn’t stop him from doing it, leaning down to pick up the next box to head inside after Raf.  
  
He might as well make the most of this situation if he’s going to be stuck in it.  
  
*  
  
They end up having a few beers, Michael helps put a few boxes away, and then he decides that he probably shouldn’t push his luck too far, especially when he’d seen the van that had dropped the new neighbor off earlier this morning. They part ways with a promise to connect again, and Michael manages a cheerful smile until he’s inside his own bungalow.  
  
Then he gets creepy. He ducks down and peeks through the blinds to watch his new neighbor head back inside, appreciating the extra views he’s getting of how ridiculously smoldering he is with that ‘come fuck me’ smirk and dark hair and perfect eyes, not to mention the  _ass.  
  
_ Once he’s fully out of sight, Michael grabs his cell phone in a frantic rush and scrolls through the three numbers in the phone.  
  
Numbers one through three are his lawyer and his officers – also known as Isobel, Max, and Kyle.  
  
Right now, it’s the last two he’s calling.  
  
“You  _assholes_ ,” he snarls into the phone before he even knows who picked up on the other end. “Michael? Michael! You named him Michael!”  
  
“Michael,” comes Kyle’s infuriating voice sounding tinny, which means that he’s on speaker. “I told you after the last incident that I’d get even with you somehow.”    
  
“Incident, what incident!”  
  
He knows he shouldn’t ask, because Kyle keeps receipts. “Oh, I don’t know, you showing up in the middle of town and shoplifting from the store using your powers seems like an  _incident_. You’re lucky you turned off the cameras with your powers, but you know that the Manes’ boys are on the lookout for you after the incident. Isobel can’t keep you hidden forever, which is why Max and I are trying to do that for you, but you’re so…you’re so…”  
  
“Difficult,” Max supplies.  
  
“Fucking asshole level of supreme difficult,” Kyle agrees. “So, yeah, you’re gonna cope with him being named Michael. Besides, how did you know he’s ours?”  
  
“You two need a better cover van. It’s the same one you used to move me in,” Michael responds, peeking through his blinds to see if “Michael” is out there still getting settled in.  
  
He is. He’s moving the last of his boxes into the house with a gait that favors one side more than the other. Michael’s going to take a stab and assume that means some kind of prosthetic, though he’s not about to announce that in front of him.  
  
“C’mon,” he wheedles. “You could at least tell me his real name.”  
  
“That’s not how this works,” Max argues. “It’s safer if you don’t know who he is.”  
  
Michael collapses back onto the couch, his frustration building to epic levels. “I’ve been stuck in this shitty suburban neighborhood for months now, and you bring in some new hot guy and you tell me that it’s safer I don’t know who he is. Can you at least tell me when the trial is?”  
  
The long-suffering sigh on the other end of the phone is definitely bad news.  
  
“We don’t know yet. The pieces are moving and we think it’ll be soon, but they want the charges to be ironclad. What happened to you,” Max says evenly, though Michael can hear the rage brimming in his words, “we don’t want it to happen to anyone else. Be patient, okay?”  
  
“Really? Telling me to be patient? And here I thought you knew me,” Michael scoffs, staring out the window and watching his new neighbor standing on the porch, surveying his new little kingdom.  
  
God, he’s so hot.  
  
At least if he’s going to be stuck here indefinitely, the scenery’s improving. “Michael,” Max says. “You know we only want what’s best for you. Please,” he says quietly. “Just hang tight, okay? Don’t do anything that’ll compromise the trial. You can hang out with the other Michael, but don’t give away any of your history, don’t tell him your real name, and don’t you dare tell him what you are.”  
  
The rules of engagement, Michael’s memorized them. He stares at his mangled hand and reminds himself why he needs to follow them, because if he doesn’t take care of himself, then this kind of thing happens.  
  
“I still can’t believe you named him Michael,” he mutters.  
  
“Why?” Kyle asks and Michael can hear the smirk in his tone. “Because when you jerk off at night, you’ll feel weird shouting your own name?”  
  
“…Valenti,” Max protests.  
  
Michael hangs up on him, because he’s an asshole.  
  
He just so happens to also be an accurate asshole who’s got his finger on the pulse of what’s bugging Michael the most about this whole same-name situation.  
  
And yet, it’s definitely not going to stop him.  
  
*  
  
It’s the middle of the night and Alex wakes to a crashing sound in his backyard.  
  
He startles awake, reaching for his gun in his nightstand before he remembers that he’s not in Roswell anymore, and he doesn’t have a piece tucked away for safekeeping, because he’s not supposed to be military. He’s not even supposed to own a hand gun.  
  
He’s Michael Whitman, friendly IT guy. They usually don’t pack heat.  
  
He stumbles out there in a house robe and his crutch, not having bothered to put the prosthetic on. It’s probably a wild raccoon that got into his trash or probably some kind of axe murderer trying to lure Alex out into the night.  
  
The terrifying thought is that it’s his father or one of his brothers who have found him. That’s the thought he really hopes isn’t the case.  
  
He holds onto the crutch tightly as he opens his sliding door and finds his backyard empty. Frowning, Alex steps out, not sure what made the noise, until he glances into the neighboring yard to see Raf trying to clean up something he’d knocked over. Alex squints to see it in the dark, noticing that it looks like he’s trying to reassemble something that looks like a telescope, which hit a trash can.  
  
That explains the noise.  
  
“Shit,” Raf says, when he looks up and sees Alex. He freezes in place, offering an apologetic look. “I woke you.”  
  
“I thought a family of raccoons was making a house in my trash. I’m not sure what to think about this,” he admits, gesturing at Raf.  
  
“I don’t really sleep well,” Raf admits, his hand pressed to his stomach. Alex had noticed it when he’d been moving in, but Raf’s left hand is completely mangled. It’s a mess of twisted tendons and bruises and pock marks, but it’s not like Raf’s staring at Alex’s lack of a leg with judgment, so Alex makes sure to keep his eyes on Raf’s handsome face instead. “Sometimes I like to come out here and stargaze, instead.”  
  
Alex understands. He used to take sleeping pills to help him fall asleep when he’d been under his father’s roof and the only reason he’s able to get some rest now is because he’s escaped from that terrible situation.  
  
“You care if you have some company?”  
  
Raf looks at him warily for a second. Then, inexplicably, his gaze turns to the street, and why, Alex has no idea. Still, he wanders over to the gate that adjoins their yards and opens it. He stands there and coaxes Alex to walk over, extending an arm to help him if he wants it, but not touching him. It’s a small gesture, but it’s so painfully kind and unassuming that it makes Alex want to cry a little.  
  
“Thanks,” he gets out, as Raf brings over a lawn chair to settle by the telescope. “You do this often?”  
  
“Pretty much any night the sky’s clear,” Raf agrees. “You wanna see?”  
  
Alex nods, trying not to come across as too eager, but then again, what other friend is he going to make in the middle of nowhere while he’s waiting to testify at his father’s trial. Does it hurt that Raf is as hot at night as he’d been earlier, in a threadbare white t-shirt and pajama pants?  
  
It absolutely does not.  
  
“Okay, here,” Raf says, angling the telescope so that Alex doesn’t have to move.  
  
The sky itself is spotted with a few stars. They’re far enough away from the city that the light pollution isn’t terrible, but they also aren’t in the middle of nowhere, but when Alex peers through the telescope, he still sees other worlds out there.  
  
It’s also a reminder of his father and his unending quest to try and find aliens. It tempers some of that late-night desire that he’d otherwise feel with a hot guy who happens to be half dressed, but only barely. He shuffles forward and stares into the night sky, waiting until he sees a shooting star.  
  
Letting out a surprised sound, he glances back up to Raf, who’s staring at the sky with wonder.  
  
“You saw it too, didn’t you?”  
  
“Yeah,” Raf agrees, pushing a hand through his honey-brown curls, turning to give Alex a sweet little smile. “I made a wish. Did you?”  
  
 _Kiss me, please, kiss me before I go crazy._  
  
Alex shakes his head. “Nah,” he lies, heart pounding in his chest. “It’s already gone, so I don’t think wishes work like that.”  
  
“Maybe next time, then,” Raf says, and takes back the telescope to adjust the angle, looking for something else in the night sky to view.  
  
They take it in turns for the next few hours, until Alex’s exhaustion betrays him. As much as he might protest that he’s not tired, he starts yawning. Maybe it’s for the best. The sun’s going to come up soon and there won’t be any stars to look at. The best they’ll see if some of their neighbors’ worst habits, and Alex is fairly sure he can get arrested for that.  
  
When you’re supposed to be laying low, that’s not a good idea.  
  
“I think it’s time for me to hit the sack,” Alex admits, pushing up to his feet. He’s a little wobbly, but he gets the crutch under him steadying himself as he gives Raf an appreciative smile. “Thanks,” he says, “for letting me see the stars.” He heads to his side of the yard, but before Raf can respond, Alex turns and decides to keep going for broke. “You should come over,” Alex says, pausing on his deck as he leans his weight against his crutch. He chances a look over his shoulder, letting his gaze slide over Raf. “Tomorrow, for dinner. Maybe if I give you enough good cooking and beer, you might sleep through the night. Besides, I owe you for showing me the universe.”  
  
Raf leans his elbows over the low fence, his gaze sliding over Alex.  
  
“I just might take you up on that.”  
  
Alex lets out a relieved breath and nods, heading back inside.  
  
That night, he dreams of Raf. He thinks of soft curls falling over his forehead in the soft dawn morning light, of warm fingertips pressing over Alex’s skin, and when his phone rings and wakes him up from a  _very_  good dream, Alex almost throws the phone across the room.  
  
Maybe it won’t be so bad waiting it out in this place, at least, not when he’s got such good company.  
  
*  
  
The next night, Raf does turn up for dinner.  
  
He’s wearing a navy blue sweater that looks soft enough that Alex wants to bury his face in it, but he prevents himself from doing that. He also narrowly avoids whimpering with pleasure because when he opens the door, Raf’s facing away and his ass in those tight jeans is incredible. “Hey!” Raf greets, holding up a bottle of wine that’s half-open and a box of chocolate.  
  
Which is also half open.  
  
Alex stares at them warily, not sure if he’s charmed or insulted.  
  
“My friend was over,” Raf says, even if ‘friend’ is stressed in a weird way that has Alex wondering if Raf actually has someone on the side. “She decided that the exchange for time spent with me was diving into the presents for you. I couldn’t exactly get to town, either…”  
  
“It’s fine,” Alex insists, and takes the wine. “Your girlfriend has good taste in wine,” he jokes.  
  
“Not my girlfriend. I’m single,” Raf says quickly.  
  
It’s probably too quickly, but Alex hates how happy he is that he’d responded like that. It’s not like he should be pursuing anything. After all, he’s currently using a fake name while waiting to testify in a trial, which means that relationships probably aren’t on the agenda. There also happens to be a viciously selfish little voice in his head that says that the first time Raf kisses him, he wants him to moan  _Alex_  and not  _Michael_.  
  
Not that there’s anything wrong with Michael, as names go. It’s just not his.  
  
Dinner goes well. In fact, it goes so well that Alex almost debates throwing his rules out the window and kissing Raf, but he doesn’t. He tells himself that it’s irresponsible and he’s here until the trial, when really he knows the only reason he doesn’t is because he doesn’t want to start this on a rocky start.  
  
He still invites Raf for dinner next week.  
  
For weeks, it becomes their steady routine, until half-started bottles of wine adorn Alex’s counter-tops, because Raf always brings something over and they never finish it completely. It’s more fun to see it added to the collection, at this point, than to polish it off.  
  
One night, when dinner is done, Raf pauses in the doorway as he’s leaving, tugging on his denim coat. “Hey, Michael?”  
  
Alex takes a second to remember that Raf’s speaking to him. He glances up from where he’s washing the dishes, securely tucked away a safe distance where he can’t kiss him. If he even gets an idea, he’ll be prevented by the suds on his hands from scrubbing. “Yeah?”  
  
“I was thinking that maybe tomorrow night, you could come over to my place?”  
  
Alex smiles warmly, ready to accept, but Raf keeps going.  
  
“You know, you could have breakfast.”  
  
The implication is impossible to miss, given the lascivious leer in Raf’s eyes. Alex would be going over at night, staying for breakfast, and there’s no mistaking what they’d do all night. He wants it  _so_  badly, and yet, it’d be a lie. He’s not Michael Whitman and he doesn’t want to start anything with Raf until he can be himself.  
  
And so, no matter how much it hurts him, Alex chokes out the, “I think I already have plans.”  
  
“Oh,” says Raf, crestfallen and dejected. “Yeah, sorry, I…”  
  
“It’s not that…” Alex jumps on Raf’s words. “Maybe another time? Rain check?”  
  
Raf doesn’t look convinced and Alex feels like he’s jumped up and down on a puppy.  
  
“Rain check,” Raf echoes.  
  
He doesn’t come back for dinner the next night, though, and Alex is left wondering how the hell he’s managed to ruin a relationship that never even began, not to mention how it feels worse than some of his  _actual_  breakups.  
  
*  
  
It’s been three months since Alex moved into his witness protection house and it’s finally the day he’s been waiting for.  
  
 _Trial day_ , which Kyle has come to collect him for.  
  
This is what Alex has been waiting for, but the strange part is realizing that his motives for wanting this trial to come have completely changed. At the start, he’d wanted this so his father would have to face retribution and Alex would feel safe out there in the world without looking over his shoulder.  
  
Now, the reason he wants this trial so badly is because he’s sick and tired of being Michael Whitman and pretending that he’s this guy, especially when he’s starting to develop actual feelings for Raf. He knows that he can’t lie to him forever, which is why he’s so desperate for this trial to begin. The sooner Jesse is convicted, the sooner that Alex gets to go back to his old life. The sooner Alex can make up for that horrible night where he’d crushed Raf’s heart by not agreeing to go home with him.  
  
He knows it’s not conventional, but they’d promised.  
  
It had been one of the few reasons he’d agreed to give his testimony. Alex ducks into the backseat of the van to find that someone is already sitting there. “Sorry, I…” He’s apologizing before he even gets a good look, but once he does, he’s gaping.  
  
He steps out of the van to stare at Kyle.  
  
“…what?”  
  
“Hey, Michael,” Raf, hot neighbor, drawls, waving at him.  
  
His hot neighbor that Alex has been developing feelings for. The same one that Alex has felt guilty about lying to. He’s the one sitting in the backseat of a van that’s going to a trial to testify about Jesse Manes’ government abuses digging into alien life.  
  
Suddenly, so much makes sense.  
  
“What the fuck, Kyle?”  
  
“I figured I’d keep my problem children together,” Kyle replies breezily, like he’s completely unaffected by all of this.  
  
Alex is staring at Raf, not sure what this means or what it says about the future, but one thing is for sure – he’s not the only one who’s been lying to protect himself, so maybe Raf isn’t going to be so mad when all the secrets come spilling out of Alex like a strange pinata.  
  
Though, the one question that he can’t shake on the drive over.  
  
If he’s not Raf Anderson, then what’s his real name, and how soon can he get it?  
  
He opens his mouth to ask him more questions, but he never gets a chance. From the moment he gets situated in the van and buckled in, Kyle takes over in his best Agent Valenti voice to brief them on what’s going to happen today, tomorrow, and in the coming weeks. Alex has to settle for sitting in the third row, aware that he keeps missing most of what Kyle is saying because he keeps watching Raf’s neck and wanting to bend forward and kiss it, just to see if it’s as warm as it looks.  
  
“Michael!” Kyle snaps.  
  
Alex’s head snaps up, in time to see Raf’s glare, and gives an apologetic look. “Sorry. Sorry, I’m paying attention.”  
  
“Good,” Kyle says, “because it’s going to be a long ride and it’s not going to be easy.”  
  
Long and difficult is an understatement, it turns out.  
  
The trial takes two weeks before it comes to its conclusion. It’s grueling and difficult. Alex has to deal with his brothers accusing him of not being a good son. He needs to recount years of abuse and torture. He has to talk about the hell that his father put him through, day in and day out, but finally it comes to an end. When it does, it’s the happiest that Alex has ever been in his life. The jury had put Jesse Manes away for life for treason against the government and his abuse of resources. The word ‘aliens’ had never come up, but it’s not like they needed to.  
  
Jesse had plenty of crimes without getting into the spooky Area 51 stuff.  
  
He’s fidgeting with his suit, undoing his tie outside the courtroom as he lets the relief of the decision wash over him. It means that he’s going to get his life back and maybe he can even go back to Roswell.  
  
That relief is cut off when he glances down the hall to see Raf sitting with Max. The both of them are on a bench together, with Michael’s forehead pressed to Max’s. They’re speaking in fervent hushed tones, and Alex wants to wander over, but he thinks he needs to give them some space. He stays where he is, but it turns out he doesn’t need to worry.  
  
It’s only a few minutes later that Max squeezes Raf’s shoulder and leaves him alone. Alex ducks his head away rapidly, so it doesn’t look like he’s been staring, but he catches Raf looking his way longingly.  
  
Alex tries not to get excited, but he fails at it when Raf pushes himself up from the bench and wanders over to stand directly in front of him.  
  
“Hi,” Raf says, as he holds out his hand. “I thought maybe I’d come over here and introduce myself to you for the first time.”  
  
Alex lets out a nervous breath, feeling the smile growing on his face. He loves the idea and he’s all too happy to latch on. “It’s always a good idea to get to know your neighbors,” he agrees. “I’m Alex Manes,” he says, and watches nervously as he says the last name.  
  
Raf’s eyes widen slightly, pupils dilating, but he doesn’t flinch. He does laugh, shaking his head, and mutters something that sounds like ‘that explains a lot’, but he still reaches out to take Alex’s hand in his own, shaking it firmly. “Alex,” he says, and  _oh_ , Alex likes the way that trips off the tongue. “I’m Michael Guerin,” he says, and all of a sudden, Alex knows exactly how much of an asshole Kyle was being, handing him that identity. “And uh,” he says, flexing his mangled hand, “I kind of want to go celebrate sending away an asshole who fucked me up really badly.”  
  
It’s Michael now, not Raf, but when his eyes slide over Alex, nothing has changed about the way he looks at him. By any other name, Michael or Raf or whoever he is, looks just as hot and makes Alex feel every bit as alive.  
  
“Do you wanna go get a drink with me?”  
  
Alex is nodding before he even hears the words out of his mouth. “I know a place or two we could go. It even has a little half-started wine there,” he says, eyes sparkling with mirth as he thinks about going back to his witness protection home for one last night.  
  
Michael seems on board with that plan given the way the corners of his eyes crinkle up from his grin. “Lead on, Alex. We’ve got our lives back, and I can’t wait to start it with you.”


	40. maria & alex friendship gen (+malex)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The worst part was when my mother asked me why we didn’t see each other anymore, casually, with a flippant sort of curiosity." Maria and Alex friendship RNM during/after the love triangle

_10 degree angle_

For ten years, Alex didn’t speak to any of his friends while he fought someone else’s war.  
  
He makes a lot of excuses for it. He’s busy. He’s not in the right emotional space for it. It would be unfair when so much is classified and he can’t share that with them. The truth is that he’s making excuses because Alex doesn’t really like the person he’s become and he wants to keep Roswell separate from that – or maybe just his friends. Definitely Michael.  
  
When things go to hell the day Max dies, Alex finds himself withdrawing again.  
  
He speaks to Kyle, he and Michael and Isobel talk about alien plans and strategies, but what hurts the most and feels the strangest is that even though he’s back in town, he’s stopped talking to Liz and Maria, because he’s not sure he can.  
  
Why he can work with Michael and not talk to Maria, he’s not sure, but he thinks that it has to do with the fact that he and Michael have been through so much and maybe Alex feels like he deserves a little suffering, after what his family has done to Michael’s. He can cope with Michael hurting him with spiteful words and bitter looks, because he knows it’s better than Michael deciding to exit Alex’s life for good.  
  
He’s just not as sure what he’s done to Maria to earn that kind of pain.  
  
Life is full of suffering, though, a lesson that Jesse Manes had beat into Alex’s head.  
  
They don’t speak, at all.  
  
Days turn into weeks, and Alex only drinks at the cabin – six-packs that he grabs from the liquor store or Kyle picks up for them – and then weeks become awkward months.  
  
Somewhere in the middle of that icy silent treatment, Liz folds. She shows up at Alex’s cabin with a plate covered in tinfoil, the smell of churro pancakes wafting through the door even as he stands there and debates sending her away.  
  
“Please, Alex,” Liz insists. “I need to apologize and I have news.”

His stomach rumbles, betraying how hungry he is. It’s the only reason he folds in the end, opening the door to Liz and nodding for the kitchen. “Forks are in the first drawer on the right,” he says quietly, still not sure why she’s here because she’d made it clear that she wanted Michael to move on to something new.  
  
That someone isn’t him.

Still, she says she’s here to apologize, so Alex will take it. “So? What did you want to say?”  
  
“That I’m sorry I took a side and thought that I knew the whole story. I’m sorry I put my nose where it didn’t belong, and I’m sorry I hurt two of my best friends in the process.”  
  
Alex frowns at her, even as he digs into the pancakes. “How the hell did you hurt Maria?”  
  
Liz shakes her head, letting out a rough sounding exhalation. “I really thought Michael and her would be good. I thought he’d let her in, that whatever kept you two apart meant that she and him could have something, but then he lied to her. He lied to her about his hand and about his past. I’m pretty sure I haven’t gone a week without at least one frantic text or call from Maria asking what’s so wrong with her.”  
  
Liz stares at the pancakes miserably.  
  
“She went from upset that she was feeling the way she was to completely torn apart thinking that she was losing her mind, like her mother.”  
  
“I don’t think you should be telling me this, Liz,” Alex warns.  
  
She might be one of his best friends, but she does this. She charges in headfirst and she doesn’t stop to think about the consequences. With a pang, Alex thinks about how Max had a habit of doing the same. Maybe they would’ve been perfectly suited to one another after all.  
  
“I know. Shit, I know,” Liz admits. “I’m here to apologize, I’m here to say I’m sorry, and I am here to beg. Please go talk to Maria? Please?”  
  
Alex wants to know why Liz isn’t asking the opposite.  
  
“Why can’t Maria come here?”  
  
“Because I sort of thought that at least if you go to her, the liquor would help a little more than being isolated in the middle of nowhere,” Liz says bluntly. “You know that she and Michael are done. That’s the news,” she says, as if everyone doesn’t already know that. It hadn’t been a quiet flame-out, even if Alex hadn’t known what to make of it. “And I think you’re both miserable over a self-destructing alien, and we need all the friends we can get.”  
  
Alex could say that he’s got all the friends he needs, but he knows it’s not true.  
  
“I’ll think about it,” he tells Liz, which isn’t a promise.  
  
She nods like it is, though, and leaves him alone.  
  
He knows he should feel bad about the fact that he doesn’t go to the Pony to talk to Maria, but he needs time to process all of this. He’d been hurt, genuinely hurt, and while he knows that other people have to live their life, it doesn’t mean that he’s ready to open the door and go right back to square one.  
  
He tells himself that it won’t be like this forever.  
  
Unfortunately, he’s deliberately ignoring the part where unless someone does something about the situation, then it very well could be.  
  


*

_30 degree angle_

  
Kyle is, weirdly, the one who convinces him to go back to the Wild Pony.  
  
“Kyle, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”  
  
“Alex, come on,” Kyle protests. “You are literally avoiding the Pony just so you don’t talk to her and I can’t drink in the weird bunker much longer.” He shakes his head. “It’s sad. It makes me feel like we’re turning into our fathers. It’s been months and Guerin is fucking half the town, but neither of you. I know that’s shitty to hear, but what’s done is done. Okay? Can we please go back to the Pony.”  
  
He could say no, but Kyle’s the one steady friend he’s got right now. He’s pretty sure that if he pissed him off and lost him, then he wouldn’t have anyone, which even he can acknowledge wouldn’t be a good look for him.  
  
“Fine,” he accepts. “When it’s awkward, just remember that you’re the one who asked for this.”  
  
Kyle ignores his plight, clapping him on the back as he forces them to charge headfirst into a place Alex has been avoiding for weeks. It hasn’t changed, but he’s not surprised. It hadn’t changed in years, why would a few weeks have managed to change the Pony. Once Kyle’s inside, he heads off to the bathroom in a completely unsubtle way the second Maria finishes up with her patrons and locks eyes with Alex.  
  
Kyle really would make the worst criminal, wouldn’t he?  
  
“Alex,” Maria greets him, sounding nervous. “Hi. Kyle texted, said you were coming.”  
  
“Did he?”  
  
“I might have tried to lean on him to get you here,” she admits. “I wanted to talk to you and you ignored Liz, which I didn’t think was possible.”  
  
Alex turns his beer, picking at the label as he tries to avoid looking at her. It’s awkward, if only because he knows that they need to talk, but he doesn’t really want to. Maybe they can make this work, though, if he sets down a few firm ground rules.  
  
“Fine,” he allows, “on one condition.”  
  
Maria eyes him warily, with that look on her face like she’s trying to read him. “Okay?”  
  
“We don’t talk about Guerin,” Alex says flatly. “Not while I’m here.”  
  
Maria opens her mouth, like she wants to protest, and Alex gets it. There’s a  _lot_  between them that’s gone unsaid that has to do with Michael, but he can’t deal with it. It doesn’t matter that Alex and Maria both aren’t dating Michael, he’s not ready to sit here and rehash a history that’s still too painful to relive. Alex is putting all his energy into not walking away. He really doesn’t think he can muster up the energy to deal with reliving the pain of Michael walking away from him and turning the tables – only, it’s not into the stars, as Alex had been expecting, but into someone else’s arms.  
  
It doesn’t matter that he and Michael are friends. It doesn’t matter that Michael and Maria aren’t sleeping together.  
  
He’s just not ready.  
  
Maria doesn’t look fully convinced, but she seems to understand that Alex isn’t offering a choice. It’s either they avoid the topic or they don’t talk at all.  
  
“Fine,” she relents, after a long pause. “Did you see what that asshole Wyatt did? Using Hank as an excuse to go after Isobel because he  _thinks_  she had something to do with it is low…”  
  
Well, Alex never did say that they couldn’t talk about Michael’s  _family_ , so he’s stepped right into that one. Still, Maria’s got all kinds of gossip that Alex never would’ve had otherwise, because he’s been self-isolating himself out at the cabin.  
  
“I hadn’t heard,” he says, and slides in closer to listen to the rest of this juicy tale.  
  
At some point, Kyle rejoins him like he’s figured out it’s safe to re-enter the fray. Alex glares at him because it’s clear that he’s been avoiding them until he’d decided that things are safe, but he’s also quietly relieved that Kyle had been so adamant that they come here tonight. He knows that there’s a long way to go before they can bridge the gap, but this feels like a good start.  
  
“What are we talking about?” Kyle asks, pressing both hands on the bar like he’s ready to jump in.  
  
“Rosa’s fashion sense,” Maria shares, because they’ve moved on to one of their old hobbies – critiquing other people’s clothing. “She’s stuck a decade back and none of us have the heart to tell her because…”  
  
Well, how do you tell the dead girl that maybe she needs to find a pair of pants that aren’t ripped?  
  
Also, Alex thinks that’d be the pot calling the kettle black, given his former tastes.  
  
“Yeah, not it,” Kyle scoffs. “She pre-hates me for being the half-brother she never wanted. You really think I’m about to tell her that her flannels need to be retired?”  
  
They spend the next few hours talking about their fashion tastes, for better or worse, and Michael’s name doesn’t come up once. It only occurs to Alex when Kyle drops him off later that Michael hadn’t come up at all and it hadn’t felt strange or awkward to avoid talking about him. Why should it? Michael came into their lives like a hurricane long after Maria and Alex had forged their tight-knit friendship.  
  
To get it back, they’re going to have to figure out how to do it while he’s there, but for now Alex will focus on the foundation and one day, they’ll see if their new friendship can withstand that hurricane.  
  
*

_right angle – 90 degrees_

  
Just as Alex feels like he and Maria have managed a détente, the universe barges in as if trying to point out that what they’re doing isn’t enough.  
  
“Alex.”  
  
He’s in the middle of Liz’s lab, readjusting his prosthetic after a quick visit to talk about aliens, having taken off the leg to give himself a quick massage while Liz went to grab coffee. He turns to see Maria in the doorway, and no Liz in sight.  
  
He has to wonder if Liz put her up to this, but Maria’s got her coat over her shoulder and a visitor’s badge on, which means that she’s probably not here for a casual visit. It’s not the first time the both of them have been in the same space, but it feels strange to run into her here. It’s not like he can run. For one, his leg’s not on and for another, she’s blocking the door.

“Is everything okay?” he asks warily, glad she’s not in a hospital gown, but what other reason could she be here?  
  
Maria averts her eyes. “Mom’s here for some tests.”  
  
Guilt hits Alex quickly, thinking about how his avoiding Maria and talking to her because of how much it hurts means that he’s also taken to avoiding Mimi, which makes him feel like a complete ass. He opens his mouth to say as much, apologize for not being there, when suddenly, the piercing sound of the fire alarm goes off.  
  
“What’s going…?”  
  
Maria doesn’t even finish her question before the sound of the door bolting shut echoes in the room. Alex’s eyes widen in alarm, because he has a bad feeling. He gestures for the door as he efficiently works to get the prosthetic back on. “Maria, check the door,” he says.  
  
As he’s buckling himself back in, Maria’s tugging on it, pounding her fists against heavy glass. “Hey!” she shouts. Can anyone hear me? There are people in here!” She keeps working on it, but it’s clear that they’re not the only ones in this situation and being in the lab, they’re far from the most critical case.  
  
Alex stares at the door and can’t believe what he’s about to say.  
  
“I guess we’re going to have to wait it out.”  
  
The doors still haven’t unlocked two hours later, but Maria and Alex have migrated to sit on the floor, side by side. “You know what the worst part of today has been?” she says quietly. “On the drive here, Mom asked me why we didn’t see one another as much anymore. It’s like she  _knew_ , like she could feel it, and I hate the idea that the universe is so out of balance that my Mom’s third eye picked up on it.”  
  
Alex gets it, he does, but the problem is that he also doesn’t think that he’s ready to forgive and forget.  
  
“I think part of the reason I’m so mad at you is because you did everything right,” Alex admits, feeling a clicking in his throat as he swallows. “You stayed. You didn’t walk away from him. When he held you after the incident at the UFO Emporium, you didn’t tell him to go and you didn’t run either. When he kissed you, you stayed to talk. And I’m mad at you because you were able to do that and I couldn’t, not with my fear of Jesse in my head,” he gets out, gritting his teeth to get the words out. “And I’m so  _mad_  that you could, and I know it’s Michael who showed up, but I was mad at you.”  
  
Maria stays silent, like she knows that Alex needs to get it out.  
  
It’s not even about how much he loves Michael, though he does. He hasn’t ever stopped, and he’d stood in an exploding building, willing to die for Michael. No, instead, he’s pissed off at Maria for being the kind of person that Michael’s been looking for.  
  
Talk about not being fair, but it’s not like Alex understands it.  
  
“Well, then, I’m on the train of being pissed off, because we broke up within weeks because he wouldn’t tell me the truth and I was mad at him. I’m mad at him for making me open up to the idea of him, of making me  _want_  him and even love him, but then for him to keep secrets from me that he still won’t tell me, but he’ll clearly tell everyone else! I’m so pissed at Michael Guerin for coming into our lives like a tornado and not even being able to be mad at him because he destroyed himself worse than he took me out.”  
  
Alex lets out a ragged and pained sounding scoff. “Well, then the trifecta’s complete, because I am one hundred percent sure that he’s pissed at me and has been for a decade,” he gets out, and wishes it didn’t hurt so much, but it does.  
  
For all that Michael looking away reminds him of the last ten years, feeling that derision and hate from Michael about how Alex walked away and how things between them don’t work is like someone’s carved a hole in his chest that he doesn’t know how to fill.  
  
Maria threads her arm in with Alex and curls in against his shoulder. “Michael doesn’t hate you.”  
  
“You haven’t seen him, Maria,” Alex says quietly. “He’s pissed at me because I keep walking away. I didn’t know what else to do, but he’s pissed and…” And maybe Alex can’t blame him, because look how crushed he got when Michael did the same to him only the once.  
  
“If he hates anything, it’s how much he loves you. Even when we were together, there would be these small moments when we’d be lying together in bed and I’d feel this aura radiating from him.” She squints, like she’s trying to put a name to it. “And it took me a few days to realize that it was the same hope that came from you. It was a  _longing_  and seeing as I was right there with him, I don’t think that it was me he was longing for.”  
  
Alex feels the ache deep in his chest, because it’s all well and good to hear that from her, but it doesn’t matter.  
  
“He’s fucking someone inappropriate every week,” Alex bites out. “I know that I kept walking away and I know I told him I wanted to be friends, but it hurts, Maria. Thinking about you with him, it hurts, because it makes me feel like I’ve never been enough and I missed my chance…”  
  
He rubs at his eyes, hating that he feels so torn up about this.  
  
“I’ve loved him since I was seventeen,” he says quietly. “I let my fear be louder than that love, and now I’m paying for it. I lost my friend, I lost him, and now I don’t know if I’m going to get either of you back.”  
  
“If you’re done being mad at me,” Maria says quietly, pressing her cheek to Alex’s shoulder as she holds him in, like she’s scared he’ll run, “I could use my friend back.”  
  
Alex turns into the warmth of her body. She smells of her intoxicating perfume and the sweet smell of liquor that means she’s been doing inventory. She smells like Maria and Alex burrows in for a one-armed hug, not sure he’s ready to keep being mad at Maria, especially when he’d forgiven Michael a while ago.  
  
“Maybe we just have to figure out how to talk to each other,” Alex says quietly. “I didn’t exactly write much when I was in Iraq.”  
  
Maria’s quiet for a minute, then adds, “Neither did I.”  
  
Maybe Liz hadn’t been the only bad friend of the three of them. Maybe they all need lessons on how to open up, be vulnerable, be  _open_.  
  
The doors unbolt in the middle of their awkward seated hug, and within seconds Liz is bursting into the room. “Alex! I’m so sorry, it’s the new security feature after the last incident and…” she trails off when she sees Maria and Alex hugging on the floor. She blinks, clearly stunned that it’s happening, but there’s also relief in her eyes. “Can I get in on that?”  
  
Maria nods, her eyes blurry with tears, and waves at Liz eagerly. “Get down here!”  
  
They’re free to wander the hospital, but Alex doesn’t want to move when he’s finally feeling like he’s grounded and in the exact right spot for the first time in so long.  
  
*  
  
 _120 degree angle_

  
It’s been ten months since Alex and Maria stopped talking.  
  
It’s been eight months since they started again.  
  
Both those numbers seem ridiculously small, given what happened last night. It feels like those incidents should have been  _years_  ago, but they’re not. Alex is nervous as hell, but he’s here at the Pony, sitting at the bar and waiting for Maria to finish serving a few customers because there’s something he needs to talk about with her.  
  
“Why are you so nervous?” she asks, squinting at him. “No psychic read needed, I think I felt your leg shaking from down the other end of the bar.”  
  
“Last night, I went on a date,” Alex shares, anxiously.  
  
“Which one was it?” Maria asks eagerly, leaning in with wide eyes. “That hottie from the base? Forest? Your tinder date from Santa Fe?”  
  
Alex hasn’t been chaste for the last half a year, exploring who he is now that his father is in a medically induced coma and can’t interfere in his life again. It’s been incredible to learn about what he likes, but last night had reminded him that above all else, he loves one thing the most.  
  
“It was Guerin,” Alex says. “Michael.”  
  
He’s been dreading telling her. He’s been worried and barely slept because he’s been so excited to come rave about this, but he’s also been picturing every scenario in his mind. He watches her for every facial tic and reaction, but there isn’t a hint of jealousy on her face and there’s no anger. It’s been ten months since they almost let themselves splinter and Maria understands how  _much_  Alex loves Michael.  
  
He’s here, he’s staying, and finally, he’s decided to fight for Michael.  
  
“Please tell me he took you somewhere better than that trailer,” she says with a disgruntled snort. “You made sure he used a condom, right?”  
  
“Aliens,” Alex reminds her. “He can’t get diseases, even if he tried his best to act like a sexual lint roller and press himself up against as many dirty surfaces as he could find. Metaphorically,” he deadpans. He knows he doesn’t sound very excited, but he’s been grinning since he’d admitted to going out with Michael, and not just that, but the way his name had sounded out loud. “We went out for a nice dinner at Isobel’s. She cooked pasta and Michael grilled, and we had a really nice time,” he admits.  
  
Maria gives him a curious look, like there’s something about Alex she’s not getting.  
  
“Am I still hopeful?”  
  
“No,” she says, shaking her head, and smiles fondly at him. “You’re past hope. This time, you  _know_.”  
  
“You’re not mad?” is his next question, which is the one that he’s really worried about. They barely survived Michael barrelling in between them the first time. What happens if this is all Maria putting on a front and he loses her? He doesn’t want to admit it, but if it came down to Michael or Maria, it’d be a really rough call, as things stand these days.  
  
“Tell me it’s not a fling,” she says.  
  
“It’s not,” Alex insists instantly. “It’s really not. I love him.”  
  
“That’s why I’m okay,” Maria admits, even if her smile isn’t as wide as it could be. “It hurts because I want something like that and I thought that maybe I could get it with Guerin, but I can’t steal other people’s happy endings to make my own.” She smacks her rag on the counter, a determined look on her face. “Besides, I deserve a man who’s willing to tell me the truth.”  
  
“You definitely do,” Alex agrees. “We’ll stay away from here for a while, though, just until things calm down.”  
  
The last thing he wants to do is mount Michael in the middle of the Wild Pony, because that feels a little like cruelly rubbing Maria’s face in it. From the look of gratitude on her face, Alex knows it’s the right decision.  
  
“I’m glad you two are making it work,” she promises, reaching over to squeeze Alex’s hand, closing her eyes, which means she’s reading him. This time, Alex lets it happen, because maybe there’s something good hanging around the corner. “I know I don’t have to tell you this, but it looks good, Alex,” she promises, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “You’re happy. And you’re surrounded by friends.”  
  
It’s pretty much all he could ever hope for, even if he’s not sure how he managed to deserve it.  
  
“Thank you,” he says, and means it with all his heart. “Thanks for letting me have this happiness.”  
  
“You’re one of my best friends,” Maria promises. “We’re not forgetting that, not anymore, not either of us.”  
  
*  
  
 _180 degree angle – straight angle_  
  


“Are you ready for this?”  
  
Alex stares at himself in the mirror, glancing over his shoulder to where Maria’s poking her head in the door of her bedroom. She’d given it up to him for the day, because the cabin is too far for them, but it makes him feel like he’s intruding on her space. Still, given her responsibilities, Alex is also fairly sure that giving up her bedroom and her mirror is the least she can do.  
  
“How’s my tie look?”  
  
Maria wanders closer, adjusting the flare of her dress as she fidgets with it, getting the orchid bowtie back in shape. “Would I be a good maid of honor if I let you go out there without looking your best?” she quips, and gets it straightened up. “You look good.”  
  
“Yeah?” Alex is nervous as fuck, because it’s been years and he knows that he and Michael have created a strong foundation, but sometimes Maria and Michael will have one of their serious talks and Alex will wonder if today’s the day Michael realizes he’s made a mistake.  
  
Maria constantly reminds him that they’re only  _friends_ , but that little voice in Alex’s head doesn’t want to go away.  
  
“You should see him,” Maria shares, with the secretive wink that only another person who’s slept with Michael can truly give. Of all their friends, no one else will ever appreciate Michael in that way, because Maria is the only one who knows about all the devious tricks that Michael can do. “I think he managed to convince Isobel to get him a pair of pants that fits just a little too small.”  
  
It’s exactly the relief Alex needs and he catches himself laughing at the image he’s creating in his mind.  
  
“Or he washed them and shrunk them and Isobel’s only noticing now,” he jokes, trying to calm himself down. It’s not that he’s worried about making a mistake, but he’s still in disbelief that today is happening. After all, with all the speed bumps they’ve gone through, the suspension of their relationship ought to be wrecked.  
  
Instead, here they are, getting married.  
  
“How are you doing?” Alex asks.  
  
Maria squints at him like he’s lost his mind. “You’re the groom. I’m not the one who should be answering that question today.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m the groom and I get what I want. What I want to know is how you’re holding up,” Alex keeps stubbornly charging down that road. “I know how hard weddings can be, never mind when one of the grooms is your ex.”  
  
“It’s been years and Michael and I went on about two dates,” Maria says, rubbing Alex’s shoulders as she gets him positioned in front of the full-length mirror. “I’ve seen his vows and yours. I know that the words you two use to describe each other would’ve never been him and me, and that’s okay. I’ve learned to be okay with that. I’m gonna go find my own cosmic, epic, connected romance and then I’ll make you suffer through it.”  
  
She leans in to kiss him on the cheek.  
  
Instead of ducking away, though, she lingers. “And,” Maria promises, wrapping her arms around his back in a tight hug, “just to make things fair, you can make out with him a few times so our friendship playing field is evened out.”  
  
Alex lets out a soft laugh. “Michael might get kind of mad about that, but we’ll see,” he playfully says.  
  
Maria finally releases him to duck away, heading out the door.  
  
“Don’t be late! The rest of your life is waiting for you at that altar,” Maria calls over her shoulder, “and he looks hot in the kind of way you definitely wanna tell your Mama about!”  
  
And soon, Alex is going to take that last name and all that goes with it, and he’ll have his best friend at his side while it happens.  
  
He’s  _absolutely_  ready for this.


	41. max/liz, rosa resurrection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Liz hears Rosa's voice near the anniversary but when she returns to Roswell, it becomes louder.

Grief does funny things to people. 

For years after she lost Rosa, Liz felt as if she had been adrift, but it’s never worse than the anniversary of her passing. Each year, to the exact day, Liz feels like she’s a ghost herself. She wanders whatever streets she’s on and when she comes back to herself with no memory, spray paint on her hands, and staring at art on the walls, she blames it on so many things.  
  
She blames grief, alcohol, trauma.  
  
Liz never stops to think that it could be anything else.  
  
What Liz can’t explain is how it gets worse when she comes back to Roswell. Outside the town, when she’d been pursuing her degrees, it only happened to her on the anniversary of her death, but now that Liz is back, she swears that she can hear the echo of Rosa’s voice no matter where she goes. She’ll be in the bar and she’ll hear Rosa lamenting about the sorry state of it and how Liz ought to offer more help to Maria.  
  
She hears Rosa snidely sassing when they pass the hospital and Liz distracts herself staring at Kyle’s ass in his scrubs, right up until she hears her sister’s voice in her head, telling her that she’s only going to break his heart (a change from the days when that had been Kyle’s job).  
  
And when she’s around Max, that’s when there’s silence, but it’s not peace.  
  
It feels like  _rage_.  
  
This year, weeks after the anniversary of Rosa’s death, she dreams of her sister in pinks and pale purples and blues. The moment Liz had fallen asleep, she’s brought to a landscape that she doesn’t recognize. Liz feels like she’s swimming in it, unsure what’s happening, but she knows that she’ll find Rosa here.  
  
She’s seen this place before.  
  
In her dreams, she understands that she’s come back here every year during her blackouts. She always forgets, like an evaporating dream, but she knows this place.  
  
“Rosa,” Liz says, pained as she sees her sister before her. “Rosa, where are we? What’s happening?” It’s not the anniversary and that’s what strikes Liz as strange. She’s come to a strange sort of acceptance about her blackouts, blaming her grief on them, but they only make sense if they happen near the anniversary.  
  
When it’s in the middle of her life, like this, she can’t comprehend it.  
  
“I can hear you all the time in my head,” Liz complains, hands near her temples as she tries to express her frustration and her  _anger_ , not sure if it’s her own or if she’s being fed that emotion from Rosa. “Why? Why can’t you leave me alone, Rosa? Why is your ghost haunting me like this?”  
  
“You’re not paying attention.” If Liz had thought herself angry, it’s got nothing on the incandescent rage that seems to fuel Rosa. “Three degrees and you don’t see it. You can’t blame  _grief_  for everything, Elizabeth! Pay attention!” she snaps.  
  
“To what?”  
  
Liz feels unmoored. Why can she see and hear Rosa so much since she’s returned to Roswell? What is it about this place that makes the connection to her sister’s memory so much stronger?  
  
“You’re close enough this time, Liz. I’m in this in between, I can’t explain it,” Rosa says as she floats in Liz’s vision like an angel swathed in pinks and golds. She looks like she’s suspended, her hair flowing around her, and Liz wants to cry for the image of her sister like this. She’s so beautiful and so young, trapped in this moment. “Help me, Liz.  _Help_ , get me out.”  
  
“Rosa, you’re dead.”  
  
“Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” is Rosa’s sarcastic reply, as Liz breathes deeply and startles out of that strange space.  
  
She blinks and looks around. She’s at the drive-in. Isobel Evans is nearby looking guilty, and Liz rubs at the back of her neck, feeling like she should be remembering something, but she can’t put her finger on what it is. Liz shakes her head and wanders back to Maria’s side, hearing Rosa’s voice in the back of her head screaming that she’s making a mistake.  
  
 _I know, I know, Rosa. I’m sorry for being back here, but I’m going to find out what happened_.  
  
She tells herself that. She tells the Rosa-shaped voice in her head the same.  
  
And yet, she falls in love and she begins to hear that anger turn to residual rage and pain. She falls for Max in spite of his flaws and when Max ruins her whole world, her love is already a foundation of a fortress and even that can’t bring it to ruin. She hates herself for it. She hates that she wants to kiss him so badly, and mostly, she hates that Rosa’s voice starts to go silent.  
  
After the UFO Emporium, after Noah, Liz realizes that she hasn’t heard Rosa speak to her in such a long time. She prays to her at night, prays to hear her sister’s voice one more time, and in her sleep, she gets her wish.  
  
 _You chose him._  
  
And then that silence pervades, right up until Liz is robbed of a choice. Max chooses Rosa over his own life, and suddenly her sister is back in her arms and in her life. That little voice in her head that used to drive her on is so much louder, because now Rosa is near her with every passing moment, even if she’s still furious with Liz (and doubly so with Max for choosing for them).  
  
One year later, on the anniversary of Rosa’s death, Liz is right by her side in the middle of Roswell, adorning the walls with new art, spray paint staining her fingers and grief finally losing its steady grip on her heart.  
  
“You still love him, don’t you?”  
  
Rosa’s voice is so much better when it’s clear like this, even if she’s accusing Liz of something that makes Rosa angry. Liz wishes that she could lie, but she thinks about pink and purple dreamscapes, she thinks of Rosa floating within it. Even though it’s not fair to her, Liz has to nod.  
  
“I do,” she admits, an apologetic look on her face. “I love you. I love him. I’d burn the world for both of you, but,” Liz says, and wraps Rosa into a tight hug, “If I only ever get to have one of you, then once I forgive him for being such a  _pendejo_ , maybe I’ll admit that he knew what he was doing, choosing you.”  
  
Liz is angry, but then, Liz has been fueled by anger since she first lost Rosa. Every year on the anniversary, her gaps had brought a fresh dose with it, accompanied by Rosa’s need for revenge. Being angry at what Max has done is different because the pain hurts in a different way. It’s love lost, the potential dashed, and Liz finds herself yearning for kisses and a life that she put off for so long.  
  
And yet, three months later, Liz hears Max’s voice in her dreams whispering,  _I’ll come back to you_.  
  
She holds on tightly. It had taken her ten years to get Rosa back. Liz promises herself that this time, it won’t be as long and until she manages, Max will be more than a ghost of a voice in her head. This time, she knows it’s him, and rather than rage, it’s  _love_  for her that suffuses her with every passing moment.  
  
He’ll come back. Until then, she’ll keep his voice in her head as a reminder to never stop searching for him.


End file.
